Lines We Can't Cross
by asil
Summary: Drabbles from the Charmed Universe. In the latest drabble "Babysitting a Witch" Phoebe's youngest daughter is far too curious for her own good. She follows Chris into the past, which should have been scary for the little cupid-witch, except Phoebe was there.
1. What Shall Set You Free?

Title: What Shall Set You Free?

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

Words: I aimed for 1,500, but it's a bit longer.

Summary: The charmed ones are tired of their whitelighter's evasiveness. They create a new spell to get answers from him and get far more than they were expecting.

A.N.: I am sorry if there's ooc-ness going on in this and my other drabbles. I actually just started watching Charmed (I know, I'm weird), so I haven't seen Chris or the sisters after season 3. I have, however, been reading all the Chris-Revelation fics that I can find. They're just so full of yummy angst. So anyways, enjoy.

* * *

"Wh-What?" He was falling, a marionette with cut strings. The powder Paige had thrown in his face smelled of thyme and cinnamon. It was gritty in his eyes as he blinked and it burned beneath his lids. This was not a spell he was familiar with, not one he had read from the book of shadows. His own magic battered uselessly against the words that were winding around in his mind. Not even all his vast knowledge could make him a match to the Charmed Ones inventiveness.

He expected oblivion to envelope him as the three sisters finished chanting. Instead he could feel the carpet beneath him and he could see the white ceiling over head. He couldn't blink away the grains that itched in his eye, he couldn't rearrange his limbs from the awkward position they were in, and he couldn't even focus on Piper as she leaned into his line of sight.

"It's a truth spell." She said, her smug smiled blurred out of view again. "You have to answer all of our questions now. No more lying, no more tricks, and no more of your damned 'future consequences.' Do you understand?"

"Yes." His own voice sounded odd, emotionless and without the clipped professionalism he tried to maintain around the witches. How could they do something so vile to him? He was-No, he wasn't anything to them. Rationally he knew that he shouldn't have been surprised that they would cast such a spell on someone they had no inclination to trust, on someone that they hated. He shouldn't have been surprised that they would do something so selfish with their power, after all he had seen how frivolous and petty they were with their gifts. He shouldn't have been surprised at all, but that didn't stop the hurt that blossomed in his chest.

"Are you here to hurt Wyatt?"

"No." He shoved the pain down. It was harder to push aside the rage at their carelessness. What if a demon attacked while they were wasting their energy on him?

"Are you here to steal Wyatt's or our power?"

"No." He had to focus. He had to undo the spell and get back to his mission. The questions Piper was asking weren't important, but that didn't mean she wouldn't move on to things that they, that she, couldn't know. It would be much more difficult to get their cooperation if they knew the truth. He reached for his magic, unsurprised when he was unable to orb away.

"Is what you told us about the future true?"

"Yes." His eyes hurt, the spell wasn't letting him close them at all. They weren't even watering the way they should in response to what felt like sand. Venom laced sarcasm flitted through him, wasn't he so fortunate that they had left him able to breathe?

"My son turns evil?"

"….." Chris's attention returned to the interrogation that had been going on between Piper and his unresponsive body. That question had not received an answer; there was something different about that question. He felt a hand grab his collar and his m-Piper was in view again.

"I knew it, you liar! You god-damned-"

Phoebe spoke up from somewhere out of sight, "Does Wyatt become evil?"

"Yes." There was the answer they wanted, or rather, didn't want. His head thumped the carpet as Piper hissed and shoved him down.

"He can't lie to us Piper." Phoebe again, "and I don't think the spell recognizes questions that depend on your inflection." Interesting. Chris wondered why they had created a whole new spell rather than use the ones already in the book. The answer was easy enough to reach. The spells already in the book didn't give them enough control, they didn't prevent him from leaving. The girls had wanted to ensure that he couldn't flee from the violation.

"Were you sent back to stop Wyatt from turning evil?"

"Yes."

"Why you? Why not someone who means something to Wyatt?" No, no, no. She couldn't ask that question. That question hurt. 'Someone who means something to Wyatt.' Even when they were enemies he had meant **something** to his brother.

"Yes or no questions." Paige reminded.

"Is there a reason you were sent back, rather than someone else?"

"Yes." He knew the most about the family and their history. He was the only one who would bother protecting Wyatt rather than killing him for what he would become. He had insisted and gotten his way, because loyalty in the future meant something.

"You have a-" Piper paused and Chris could imagine her face as she reworded her thoughts. "Do you have a connection to Wyatt?"

"Yes." Hopelessly he fought the spell. He fought to blink the dust from his eyes, fought to silence the yeas and nays that were forced from his lips.

"Were you his friend?"

"No."

Again the string of questions hit a snag. The response had surprised Chris as well. He had always considered Wyatt his friend, his best friend even. They were brothers, he supposed that made them closer than friends.

"Why would he share so many secrets with someone who wasn't a friend?" Piper sounded incredulous and frustrated. Chris almost wished that he could feel sorrow for her struggle. "Did you use magic or something to get the information?"

"No."

"He knows more than that. More than even a spell could get him." Phoebe, or Paige spoke, the witchlighter was having a hard time following where they were in the room.

"Why would my son reveal our secrets to a stranger?"

Phoebe was in sight now, at least he thought it was her. His vision was blurry and pain was stabbing through his eyes, he could hardly see her. "Were you and Wyatt lovers?"

"No." If he were able, Chris would have choked at that question. Maybe he had nothing to worry about, the witches seemed incapable of putting facts together.

"Are you related to-"

"Paige! Why would you ask that?" Phoebe's outraged voice faded as she moved away again.

"Like you said, he knows things. Things that we wouldn't tell our friends, that we wouldn't tell our lovers."

Piper bent close to him, her voice intent as she spoke, "Are you related to us?"

"Yes." His anger was back. He hadn't wanted them to find out. Not that way and not any way.

"Oh God, oh God."

"But. That can't be, you…" Piper trailed off. He could feel her gaze piercing into him as she took a breath and asked. "Are you Wyatt's brother?"

"Yes." The spell ripped the truth from him before he had the chance to analyze her tone.

"Are you my son?" Piper asked, her voice was softer and lacked the demand that had been in all her other questions.

"Yes." Absurdly, he was glad that he couldn't turn his head, glad that the magic of the Charmed Three prevented him from seeing the emotions warring through her. Chris had imagined telling them many times since he came to the past. It was all too raw for him. But now, with their magic controlling him, all he could do was answer. It was easier for him, in a way. He could focus on the searing in his eyes and push away the mental anguish, he didn't have to pay attention to the sudden distress in his mother's voice.

"Nonono, that isn't possible." She said. "You can't be, I would have known. I would have recognized." She sobbed twice, "Why didn't you tell me, tell us?" Piper had knelt next to him; he could feel her touch on his arm as it gripped his sleeve.

There was silence throughout the living room, save for a few more gasped sobs from the eldest charmed one. As much as he tried to ignore it, Chris couldn't help his reaction to his mother's pain. He wanted to hold on to his anger but it slipped away. The little boy that was inside him, the little boy that had seen her dead on the ground and felt the warmth of her blood, that boy wanted to hug her. He could handle it when she didn't like him, but her grief made it difficult to differentiate between Mom and Piper.

"We need to remove the spell." Phoebe's voice came from above his head, but his vision had blurred so badly that he couldn't see her above him.

"We can't." Phoebe said, "We have to wait for it to wear off." Chris mentally scoffed to himself. They had planned to sit there and interrogate him until they were satisfied, then just leave him until it wore off. The outrage was back, full force. His mo-, Piper's hand continued to grip his arm, the other touched his hair. Chris wished to wrench away from the touch and away from the apologies that she sobbed out. The spell kept him still. Why had they stopped their questions; what difference did it make that he was theirs? How could they be willing to violate a stranger but not their own blood.

I it was a while before the spell wore off. The first thing the witchlighter did was to slam his eyes shut and roll on his side. The pins and needles feeling exploded across his limbs and tears were gushing from beneath his lids. He shoved off the hands that were on him, reached for his powers, and disappeared in a cloud of blue lights.

* * *

Coming Next

* * *

Title: A Blue Sweater

Words: 1,000plus

Summary: Victor doesn't have the blinders that his daughters have when it comes to Chris. He notices things about the younger man, like the fact that Chris wears a sweater. That sweater, if it wasn't so worn out and threadbare, would be identical to one that Victor has in his closet.


	2. A Blue Sweater

**Title:** A Blue Sweater

**Disclaimer:** I live in a cabin with no running water…..do you really think it is possible for me to own Charmed?

**Words:** 1,000plus

**Summary:** Victor doesn't have the blinders that his daughters have when it comes to Chris. He notices things about the younger man, like the fact that Chris wears a sweater. That sweater, if it wasn't so worn out and threadbare, would be identical to one that Victor has in his closet.

A.N.: The response to the first chapter was, I am pretty sure, the fastest and biggest response I've ever gotten for the first chapter of anything. *Hugs you all.* Thanks for all the comments and all the votes. Anyways. This next drabble got the most votes, I sincerely hope it lives up to your expectations.

* * *

After hearing all his girls rant over the phone about their new whitelighter, Victor wasn't sure what he expected. However, he knew that he wasn't expecting the kid that sat on a barstool in Piper's empty club. The man-child looked barely old enough to drink the vodka that Leo set before him as a peace offering. In fact; Victor reached out and caught hold of the glass before Chris could bring it to his mouth.

"Are you even twenty-one yet?" He asked and waited for the snappy comeback. After all, half of his daughters' rants had been about the young man's attitude problems. Instead there was a sort of hurt bewilderment in the whitelighter's expression as he stared at Victor. There was something else there too. It was unreadable to the older man, but it looked somewhat like the expression that came over his daughter whenever she was trying to come up with a lie.

"Dad," Piper spoke up from behind the bar. "He's a whitelighter."

"I know." He said briefly to her, then turned back to Chris and tapped at the glass beneath his hand. "If you add together your years alive with your years as a whitelighter, are you old enough to drink this?"

There was silence for a moment as the whitelighter continued to stare at him. Then, without even an attempt at tug-of-war, Chris relinquished the drink to the older man. There was a bit of relief in his expression as he turned to Leo and said, "Thanks anyways." Maybe he hadn't wanted the peace offering in the first place. Then that unreadable look was back and his gaze searched Victor's face for an instant before he disappeared in a shower of blue.

"Heh?" Piper's confused exclamation was barely heard as Victor considered that new information. No wonder the kid was so brusque and defensive around the girls, at his age he was probably desperate to be taken seriously.

* * *

Victor noticed the sweater the next time he saw the man-child, when he came over to watch Wyatt while the girls dealt with the current threat.

Chris was brewing a potion in the kitchen, carefully following the instructions in the book on the table. It was necessary to let it simmer for ten minutes after each new ingredient was added, else the volatile concoction would react violently. During each interval while the whitelighter waited to add the next herb he would pick up a sweater, taking a needle and thread to a few holes in the worn material.

They weren't holes, Victor realized as he bounced his tiny grandson in his arms, they were gashes. There were identical rips in the young man's dark undershirt, and the older man caught a glimpse of blood beneath that. He turned to Wyatt as his mind raced, what the hell was so important about the sweater that Chris patched it up before caring for himself?

Victor tried not to be obvious as he stared at the sweater that Chris was mending. It was a soft, faded blue color. At one time the material must have been incredibly comfortable, but it looked so threadbare by that point that it probably didn't even keep the young whitelighter warm.

The older man's introspect was interrupted as Chris set the garment on the table and got up to add a handful of purple flowers to the potion. Then something else about that sweater caught Victor's eye. On the tag, inside the back of the collar, there was a red 'V' embroidered and right beside it was a sloppier, hardly legible 'C.' Victor's memory clamored at him and he clutched at the grandson in his arms.

That night, after the demons were vanquished and Wyatt was returned to the safety of his mother's arms, Victor hurried home. He took a box out of his closet, the one filled with all the old sweaters that his ex-wife had gotten for him. Each one had a 'V' on the tag, but he was looking for a particular one.

He held it up when he found it, feeling the softness and staring at the un-faded blue. He opened his mouth, but there were no curses or swear words worthy for the magnitude of the realization that had come to him.

* * *

"Dad, you can't just invite our whitelighter to live with you. It's not, it isn't…" Piper flailed her arms a bit in an effort to explain her reasoning.

"Why not? He's helping to keep my girls alive, least I can do is offer him my guest room." Victor shrugged, "Besides, my place is easier to secure than the backroom of your club." He kept his voice even. There was no reason for his daughter to know the outrage he felt over the fact that that was where Chris was staying.

"Well…" Piper cut herself off, perhaps thinking about how the whitelighter wasn't so difficult when Victor was around. "Okay, but you kick him out the moment he starts being disrespectful. And tell us, so we can yell at him for you." Her father nodded agreement but somehow he doubted that would be a problem.

Chris wasn't nearly so difficult to convince. He did put up an argument, but Victor persisted when he perceived the hope in the boy's eyes. Within no time at all the whitelighter orbed his books to the guest room, looking around with a shuttered wonderment that made Victor leave the room to keep Chris from seeing his own expression.

All through the night he lay away, listening to the quiet movements of the whiteligher in the other room and wondering when was the last time Chris had gotten a full nights rest.

That morning Victor made pancakes. He wasn't the best cook in the world, but he could make a mean pancake. He made them the way he liked them, the way Piper liked them. With peanut butter and jelly in place of syrup. Then he marched over to the guest room. As he had expected, Chris was still up and pouring over a book that didn't even look to be in English.

"Breakfast."

The whiteligher looked up, startled. "But there are—."

"No." Victor cut him off. "Breakfast," he said again, then walked back to the kitchen. He'd give the younger man a chance to come out by himself but he was fully prepared to drag Chris to the table if he had to.

He didn't have to. The whitelighter came out of the room a minute and a half later. "Look, Mister Bennett. I appreciate what you are doing. But it is not necc—." His abrupt silence made Victor look toward him. The young man was staring at the plate on the table, at the pancakes. His eyes were bright and his expression was crumbling. He dashed his hand across his cheeks, desperate to pull his mask back in place. "I have to." His voice cracked and he tried again. "I have to go."

"No." Victor said, firm but gentle as he reached over, caught the whitelighter's arm, and guided him into the seat. "You're going to sit, you're going to eat, and then you're going to explain why you haven't told your mother the truth."

* * *

**Coming Next**

Title: Speak to the Heart

Words: 1,500plus

Summary: *No incest* The Charmed Ones come up with a clever plan to get rid of Chris, using the Elder's own rules against them. They put an untraceable love spell on him and, since whitelighters can't have a relationship with their charge, they expect him to be removed when the spell makes him love one of the witches. Unfortunately their scheme blows up in their face because the spell has a clause that prevents incest.


	3. Speak to the Heart

**Title:** Speak to the Heart

**Disclaimer:** *Waves the box set of the dvd's above everyone's head* You can't have them, they're all mi- *thunder claps and I dash beneath a nearby table* Okay, okay, they're not mine!

**Words:** 2,000plus

**Summary:** *No incest* The Charmed Ones come up with a clever plan to get rid of Chris, using the Elder's own rules against them. They put an untraceable love/lust spell on him and, since whitelighters can't have a relationship with their charge, they expect him to be removed when the spell attracts him to one of the witches. Unfortunately their scheme blows up in their faces because the spell doesn't work between close relatives.

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Paige leafed through the book, rereading the ingredients and tossing a glance towards her eldest sister.

Piper flung a handful of herbs into the mixture. She kept her expression confident, though as she tried to assure her sisters it somehow felt like she was assuring herself. "What could be wrong with it? We get a new whitelighter and Chris gets different charges, no one gets harmed."

"You don't think this has personal gain written all over it?" Phoebe asked. She scrapped the plant she had been chopping off of the cutting board and into her palm, then reached over Piper's shoulder to toss it in. The potion flashed and the liquid transformed from the murky grey into a pepto bismal pink.

"Were you not listening last night?" Piper queried as she set upon the mixture with the spoon. The brew splashed up against the sides of the cauldron with the force of her stirring. "We are not good enough; our lives are too distracting when it comes to **destiny**." Never mind the fact that she hadn't actually needed to go shoe shopping at that exact moment, she just hadn't wanted to follow Chris to the underworld.

Phoebe sighed. "Yeah but…"

"Maybe his next charge will be a better fit for him and his demon hunting obsession. Either way, he won't be our problem anymore. Right?"

Paige's agreement was not quite as immediate as Piper would have liked, but she gave in when the older witch gave her a stern look. Phoebe reluctantly nodded after she failed to come up with any other protests. Piper triumphantly scooped a cupful of their brew and poured it into the blender, over the frozen fruit and ice cubes that filled it. Then she struck the button, the potion and the fruits mixed together into a delectable smoothie. It was good to have allies, she thought as she poured the smoothie into a glass and set about making three others that weren't contaminated with the potion; her sisters would always be by her side no matter how harebrained her ideas were.

"I am going to check that the lasagna is done, you guys call him." She said once the smoothies were set out on the table and all evidence of the potion had been whisked away. This was for the best, she reassured herself. He wouldn't be hurt by their meddling, he just wouldn't be allowed to be their whitelighter anymore.

She headed back into the living room with the lasagna dish, hearing her sister's voice as Phoebe addressed him. "We wanted to apologize for the argument yesterday. "

The eldest witch schooled her expression to be sincere with a touch of regret. "You were right. We haven't been serious enough about any of this." She brandished the pan of lasagna and said, "We made dinner, well, I made dinner. You should join us."

"I have a lead to follow." He protested.

"And we'll help you, after dinner." She said, cutting off the rant about wasting time that they were all familiar with. Her annoyance crept into her voice a little. Shouldn't he be trying to meet them at least halfway if he truly wanted their cooperation?

He was reluctant to sit at the table, but the promise of their future assistance kept him from whining about it. They all dug into the lasagna, passing around the loaf of French bread that went with it. Chris made a surprised noise as he took the first sip of his smoothie. "This has rosemary in it?"

Her heart pounded. He couldn't identify the love potion by taste, not when it was mixed with a lust potion, and especially not when it was mixed with a bunch of extra fruit. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's good." He took another sip and considered the taste. "I've just never thought of putting rosemary in a smoothie."

"It's a secret family recipe." She said quickly and tried not to frown at the curious glance he shot her. He was already privy to so many of their secrets, he couldn't expect to be told them all. Luck was on her side, the whitelighter made no move to question her further about the drink. Instead he remained quiet as they all finished dinner. Typical, Piper thought to herself, he couldn't even go one evening without being moody.

By the end of the meal his smoothie had been entirely drank and the witches watched him for signs that their concoction was working. A few times his expression got a bit hazy, but there were none of the desirous looks or sudden proclamations of love that the book had told them to expect. Piper shared a frown with her sisters as he pushed his plate away.

"Okay, about the demon, well, demons that I have a lead on." His expression was stern again, as it always was when evil was afoot. "They're sort of twins, possessing opposite powers. I'll get the text I found on them." Then Piper turned to her sisters as the whitelighter orbed out of the room.

"Why isn't it working?" She hissed at them, standing to start stacking all their dishes.

Phoebe passed her plate down the table. "How should I know? Maybe mixing the fruit in changed the potion."

The eldest shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, I've never read of strawberries having magical properties." Though, considering she hadn't read every magical tome out there, there might have been some affect they could have that she was unaware of.

"Well maybe the blueberries nullified the whole lust causing part of it." Paige suggested. The sound of orbs silenced any retort from Piper. Their whitelighter was back.

With wide eyes he looked around at the three of them. "Twins have to wait." He gasped. His pupils were huge against the green irises and a thin layer of sweat shone on his flushed cheeks. "There is some-," he panted and supported himself on the table. "— Sort of lust demon at the club."

"Oh honey," Phoebe hurried over to him. They had all agreed that if given the choice, she was the best target for the spell he was under. She just had to be close to lure the lust in her direction. "Are you okay."

Somehow, seemingly without effort, he didn't look at her. "I'm fine now, I'm away from them." And he did seem better. His breathing had slowed and the red faded from his face. His gaze was still somewhat out of focus as he tilted his head and murmured, "They were so beautiful."

"What?" Piper exclaimed. "Who were?"

"I don't know." He swayed against the table. "All of them, the women at the club." He said and shook his head and pushed himself upright, "I should go back. Maybe I can see who is causing it, or at least draw them to me instead of the innocents."

"Hold it right there!" She was ignored as he disappeared again. "What the hell is going on?"

"He didn't look at me at all." Phoebe pouted as she crossed her arms. "I mean I know I'm not as perky as I used to be but that doesn't do my ego any favors."

Piper was hardly listening to her sister as she turned her head to the ceiling. "Chris! Chris!" She glanced down at her fellow witches. "Should we go to the club after him?"

"Maybe. I mean, whatever he gets up to will kinda be our fault."

"I need keys." The eldest declared and set off to search for the ever elusive car keys. The sound of orbs drew her back to the room.

"Owwww." Chris hopped away from Phoebe, holding his head. His hand covered most of his face, but Piper could still see the red bruising around his eye. A touch of guilt brushed through her, she hadn't wanted anyone hurt.

"What happened?"

"There was a girl," He grinned, swayed, and winced as his hip bumped the table. "She was really pretty. He hit me when I kissed her."

"He who?"

"Dunno, I thought maybe he was jealous, so I kissed him too. He hit me again." He swayed again and tried to grab the table, missed, and toppled to the floor. Once settled on the carpet he declared, his voice slurred but still understandable. "I think I love her, or him."

"You kissed someone's girlfriend." Phoebe stood over him, her hands twitching as she considered helping him.

"Oh, that makes sense." He rolled over. He seemed aware that something was wrong with his body, staring distrustfully at his hands and knees as he pushed himself upright. Puzzlement etched across his features.

"Did anyone see you orb?"

He gave a slow shake of his head, though it was unclear if he was responding to the question or if the motion was involuntary. "I should go and apologize, and look for the wom-." He frowned and licked his lips. "The demon, for the lust demon."

"Nope," Phoebe reached down and caught his arm. "You're not going anywhere."

"But I wanna." He tried to tug away from her. "Lemme go."

"There is no demon!" Piper's frustration exploded.

"Yes there is." His voice was uncharacteristically whiny as he rolled his gaze toward her.

"No there's not."

"Yeah huh."

"Nuh uh."

"How come you never, ever believe me? There is a demon."

"No there isn't!" Piper clenched her fists and admitted. "We put a spell on you."

His gaze had been wandering away, but it snapped back. His eyes were wide and the hurt in his tone made her feel five inches tall. "You did?" Then the information pierced through the dazed veil of the spell. "Wait, what, you did **what**!?" His abrupt yell made them all jump. "Undo it!"

"I don't understand why it's not working." Paige said. She had read and reread the lust and the love potions so many times to ensure they wouldn't interfere with each other. She didn't understand why it would work around the women at the club but not around any of the three witches.

"I don't care, cast the undo, I mean the counter." He clung to the wall and rose to his feet.

"It wasn't really a spell, it was a potion." He glared and her, "aaand I'm going to go and read the instructions for undoing it."

"You do that." He glared after the witch, then his gaze drifted back to the sister closest to him. "What was your potion supposed to do?"

"I plead the fourth." Phoebe said quickly.

He frowned at her as he pushed away from the wall. "But I don't want to search you. I just want you to tell me."

"What?"

Standing seemed to be taking away from his ability to follow the conversation. He turned a blank look to her. "Huh?"

"We were thinking you would be removed as our whitelighter if…you know…" The words wouldn't come to her mind so she used hand motions to elaborate.

"What are you—," he paused and stared wildly at her, then at Piper, then at her again. "You're saying…Oh god, ewwwwww."

"Hey!" Phoebe protested. The whiteligher wasn't good for her self-esteem.

"Bleh, that's disgustifying, get away from me." He shuffled back from her and gave an exaggerated shudder.

Paige rejoined them. "I think I have the counter."

"Any info in there about why it didn't work right?" Piper asked, peering at the page that the younger witch had the book open to.

"No, none at all."

Chris spoke up, his usual snarkiness sounding a bit childish. "Maybe it only works around attractive women."

"Hey!" Phoebe resisted the urge to slap the whitelighter's arm, afraid that he would topple over again if she did. She stopped resisting as he blew a raspberry in her direction.

"What about a something that stops it from working between witches and whitelighters?" Piper asked and avoided watching the interaction between her sister and the stumbling whitelighter. The mixture of potions had turned him juvenile; he almost seemed playful as he swiped back at the witch.

"No, there's nothing." Paige offered her the book. "There's only…"

"What?"

The youngest witch pointed to a particular passage. "Well there's this bit here that says something about preventing abomination."

"Abomination. What is that supposed to mean?" Piper gritted her teeth in frustration. In hindsight, mixing the potions had probably been a bad idea.

"Incest!" Chris declared.

She looked to him, when had he gotten across the room? "What?!"

"Well it is abomin-edibable." He giggled at the word his confused mouth concocted.

"It is abominable." Phoebe agreed, "But, we'd have to be related."

"Exactly. See, Aunty Pheebs has got it." He pointed to her happily. Then his grin faded as they all turned to look at him.

"You're related to us?" Piper managed to ask.

He lazily applauded and looked smug as she winced with each slow clap. "Can you counter it now?"

"You're related to us."

His glare was fierce but something brittle lurked behind his eyes. "You're brilliant. Counter?"

"You're related t-."

"I don't **like **being spelled!" He yelled at her, and then his anger seemed to deflate as he turned away. "Please counter the potion. Please."

"Chris," Piper reached out and touched the back of his neck.

"Don't touch me." He snarled and wriggled away from her, "After everything you've done you have no right."

A.N.: I think I am going to end it there, since it is not turning out the way I want. Chris' emotions are too hard to follow and there aren't any strangers around for him to lust after. I'm thinking I want to change the setting instead of having everything happen at the house, like maybe the sisters actually do follow him to the club. Eh, I'll see if I am motivated to redo this one.

* * *

**Coming Next**

Title: Limits of Power

Words: short

Summary: Cole returns once more. Phoebe is devastated and Chris is not as eager to see the demon dead as everyone expected him to be.


	4. Limits of Love and Power

**Title:** Limits of Power

**Disclaimer:** *Points at things in my room* That is mine, and that is mine, but Charmed is not mine.

**Words:** short

**Summary:** Cole returns. Phoebe is devastated and Chris is not as gung-ho to vanquish him as he is expected to be.

* * *

Cole didn't want to die. He had lived through so much, for so many decades. Survival was second nature to him. It was an old friend who whispered warnings whenever he stepped too close to fire. He was so close to the flames now, so close that the whispers seemed like screams. All he could hear was Phoebe's wretched cries. Cole didn't want to die, but he also didn't want to live when his presence hurt her so badly.

"Do it." He whispered and stepped forward.

She backed away, clutching the vanquishing potion to her chest. They had been through so much together, he had put her through so many trials, and he had gone through hell for her. What was one more vanquish if it would fix some small part of what he had broken.

"Do it." He said again and stared back when she finally looked up at him.

"You think I won't?!" She scooped up one of the rocks that had been knocked loose from the mausoleum wall during their fight with the bounty hunter and wildly threw it towards him. "You think you can come back and just—you just can't—."

"You're right." He stepped towards her.

"Dammit Cole! I was—," She dropped her hands to her side, eyes bright with tears as she stared at him. "I was over you. I was moving on. Now you're back and I can't, I just can't."

"Phoebe, I understand. I'm not asking you to trust me." He winced as she sobbed again.

"Why are you here?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "You know I have to—That it's my duty to vanquish you."

"I know," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"You have to." He stepped toward her once more. "Phoebe, it will never stop. They will use me against you and they'll use you against me. They will **never** stop!"

"I don't care. I can't!" She flung herself at the entrance of the mausoleum, ignoring his call for her to stop. "Just leave me alone. Stay away!"

"I didn't kill him." Phoebe said from where she was curled on the couch. Her head was down and her eyes were finally dry after crying for so long.

"I heard." Chris motioned towards the kitchen, where Piper was baking. Piper had spent the last hour yelling at the younger witch. Evidently the whitelighter had eavesdropped at some point.

"Are you going to go after him?" She asked.

"No." The whitelighter's voice was far softer than the witch was used to. His eyes were unreadable as she looked up at him. "Unless you want me to."

"What, no lecture about his true nature?" She asked, made uncomfortable by his unnatural behavior. He was always so determined to vanquish demons, what made Cole different?

"Phoebe," He drew a breath, "Love is powerful. It gives Leo and others the ability to heal horrible wounds. Love can break unbreakable curses, it can ward off unspeakable evil, it can—."

"Get to the point." She snapped, her eyes were wet again and she had no interest in the whiteligheter's speech.

He nodded. "Love can do many impossible things. Why couldn't it inspire a demon to do good?"

"So, what? You think he has changed?"

"I think I don't know him, but you do. If anyone can judge whether or not he has defied his demonic nature, it's you."

"I want to believe it." She said. It hurt to admit the existence of the hope that had settled in her breast, hurt to open her heart even the tiniest bit. She waited for the whitelighter to throw her a look of pity, but instead he just nodded and moved to leave.

"Chris." She waited until he faced her again. "Was Cole in the future?"

He frowned at her and she waited for another lecture about 'future consequences.' Again he surprised her by simply nodding.

"Was he good?"

"He didn't work with the resistance, but he knew where several of the safehouses were." Chris told her, paused, and then continued speaking. "Even after weeks of torture, he didn't betray the locations. You tell me if that is good or not."

* * *

**Coming Next**

* * *

Title: Big Bad Wolf Cub

Words: 1,500plus

Summary: Chris succeeded in saving his brother, then he failed, then he succeeded again, and then he failed once more. Eventually he starts remembering all his past attempts and realizes that his actions have caused a paradox. Time isn't just looping; it is winding around, tangling and spiraling into a vortex that has split from the original timeline. That vortex has caught the attention of something that is beyond the powers of the source, the elders, and even the charmed ones.


	5. Big Bad Wolf Cub

**Title:** Big Bad Wolf Cub

**Words:** I aimed for 1,500...then they multiplied. 7,000plus.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, except in my head...my head is a scary place.

**Summary:** Chris succeeded in saving his brother, then he failed, then he succeeded again, and then he failed once more. Eventually he starts remembering all his past attempts and realizes that his actions have caused a paradox. Time isn't just looping; it is winding around, tangling and spiraling into a vortex that has split from the original timeline. That vortex has caught the attention of something that is beyond the powers of the source, the elders, and even the charmed ones.

**A.N.: **I don't know where all the feels came from, but there are many in this story (between Chris and family members). Which is weird because I was planning a crackfic...Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

Wyatt woke to the sound of his brother's screams.

He hated it when Chris had nightmares. They were not the normal kind where he had forgotten an important assignment or his baseball team was getting booed off the field. They weren't even the less normal kind where the furniture grew teeth and had to be vanquished. They were the kind that ripped screams from the younger teen, the kind that kept him from waking as he writhed on the bed.

It wasn't just the screaming that Wyatt despised, although that was bad enough. It was the way that Chris scrambled away when his older brother tried to wake him. As if Wyatt was a part of the terror, as if his proximity made it all worse. Things would always be fine again once the younger teen was fully awake. But there was an instant, when he was partially aware and the nightmare clung to him, there was such horror in his eyes.

That night was different.

Wyatt leaped across the room at the first cry and placed his hands on Chris's shoulders. Shaking his brother hardly ever worked but, like always, he tried anyways. The younger teen thrashed beneath him, one knee almost catching Wyatt's ribs. His eyes were squeezed shut and his fists gripped at his comforter. He failed to respond to Wyatt calling for him, whimpering and screaming until his voice was hoarse. Then, after what seemed like hours to the Wyatt, silence fell as Chris's eyes snapped open and focused on his older brother.

Wyatt tried not to feel wince as Chris sprang away from him, but he knew the hurt was plain in his eyes. He slid off the bed and waited for the younger Halliwell to wake fully, and then he waited some more. The terror wasn't fading from Chris's expression the way it should have. "What's wrong Chrissie?" The older teen's frown deepened when his brother flinched.

Chris looked around, his gaze flicking from Wyatt to the room that surrounded them. His expression was shuttered but the confusion was clear to the older teen. He studied the nightstands, the beds, and the posters on the wall as if he had never seen them before. His hands were fisted at his sides, his arms shaking minutely and his breath coming in quick gasps.

"Chris." His voice immediately drew his brother's attention. Wyatt held his hand out, taking a step forward. The younger teen flung himself away, colliding with the wall with a painful sounding thud. His eyes slammed shut and whiteblue lights enveloped him as he orbed away.

"Chris!" Wyatt yelled his name, reached for their mental connection, and jolted in surprise as he realized that his brother was blocking him. "Dad," He called out, leaving the room and racing up to his parents' bedroom, "Something is wrong."

* * *

He paced the short distance from one end of the platform to the other. His hands twisted in the material of the pajama top. It was flannel and…colorful, he had no idea why he was wearing it. Wind whipped at him and the city lights glimmered before his gaze. His mind throbbed at each and every horn that blared on the bridge below but he didn't leave because that was the best place for him to think. Confusion spiraled inside his head, spinning and swirling until queasiness made him sway.

He snapped his head up at the sound of orbing, the quick motion summoned a stab of pain through his temples. His vision blurred but he didn't have time for that. The witchlighter shook his head and focused, stray memories snapping into some sort of order. Leo and Paige stood before him. They were old but without the hardness that they had had in the future he knew. His eyes search for his mother, the old ache squeezing a fist around his heart when he noticed she wasn't there.

"Chris." Leo approached. His voice was soft and, Chris was surprised to perceive, concerned.

The young Halliwell tried to glare but that made his head worse. He paced again, along the edge opposite to his relatives. "What do you want Leo?"

"You—." The elder stopped himself, turned to motion to Paige, and then addressed Chris as she orbed away. "You remember?"

He rubbed his knuckles against his forehead and tried to sort out the tangle that was in his mind. "Yes," he said. "Not all of it. Just the important bits and pieces." He reached the edge, turned, and paused with a glance at his father. "I don't suppose there's anything you can do about this headache?"

Regret flickered in Leo's eyes as he shook his head. "No, sorry. I don't have powers anymore."

"Oh." Chris stepped across the platform again, letting that sink in. He was aware that Leo was watching him but refused to be unnerved by his father's attention. He took six steps across the platform, turned, and then took six steps in the other direction. He did it again. His hands gripped the edges of his shirt, the fabric biting his palms. The city was loud beneath them and the flare of the lights was far too bright. The Eld— Leo was quiet as he waited for Chris to figure out whatever was in his head. His patience made the younger man tetchy. That was uncharted territory for the witchlighter and the confusion was not good for his aching brain. He looked to his father. "It worked?"

Leo nodded. "Wyatt is good."

"Good. That's good." He turned away to continue pacing, but then his brow furrowed and he turned back. "You don't have powers?"

"I gave them up. My family needed me." Leo stepped forward, closing the gap between them but unable to fathom how to cross the emotional divide. "You don't have the memories of your life here?"

Chris started to shake his head but stopped as the motion sent a new wave of agony spinning through his skull. "They're hazy and I'm trying not to think about them."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid. If I do, then the—." He considered the word, "the personality from this time might merge with mine."

The hurt that crossed Leo's face caused an odd tightening in Chris's chest. "Why wouldn't you want to merge?"

"Leo—Dad. I don't understand why I'm here." He slumped down and let his knees hit the metal of the platform as his fingers returned to his temples. His headache flared and he spoke quietly, "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Your family is here, you shouldn't be anywhere else." Leo's hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently as the older man knelt beside him.

Chris squinted up at him. Concern was etched into his father's features, Chris had to turn away as the sight of it made his eyes burn. The city lights danced and spun as he stared at them instead. "I died, the timeline that I came from is gone." He took a shaky breath. "If Wyatt is good then the 'me' from here has had a good life. He doesn't need my memories, he doesn't need to know how messed up life could have been."

"What about you?" Leo's grip had tightened but instead of being painful it was steadying, a foundation that Chris could cling to as he faced the turbulence that rattled his mind.

"What about me? I'm dead Leo, my existence should have ceased. Oblivion is not something one can come back from. "

Leo pulled him closer, his arm circling around Chris's back. That embrace should have been awkward for the witchlighter, but he was too busy grounding himself in the touch. "Maybe this is a reward."

"Some reward. I get to ruin the lives of my family." Chris scoffed and felt his father stiffen beside him. He quickly spoke again, not wanting to listen to Leo's objections about what his presence did for everyone else. "I killed an Elder, there is no reward for that."

"Gideon lost his way, he—." Leo stopped as Chris bent forward and buried his head in his hands. "Chris?!"

"It's my head." He moaned, eyes squeezed shut and fingers scrubbing across his scalp as if he could scratch out the ache. "God. It's killing me."

"Can you orb us home? I can call Paige." The worry in Leo's voice spurred the younger man's pride. He was not weak enough to need pity.

"I can." He reached over, gripped his father's jacket, and focused past the searing pain. The sounds of the city faded, replaced by silence as he orbed them from the bridge. Chris stumbled as he landed them in the kitchen, surprised when his father caught him in time to prevent a face plant. There were footsteps approaching and Chris mentally braced himself to face his brother.

"What's going on? Is everything alright?"

He froze and wrenched his eyes open despite the way the lights knifed into them. "Mom!" She stood before him wearing a stern motherly expression and a blue bath robe. Her hair was longer and there were a few new wrinkles around her eyes, but it was her. He spoke in a strangled voice, "You're alive."

"Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I –." She looked past him to her husband, realization dawning as she saw Leo's expression. "Oh. Oh Chris." Then she was hugging him. His arms slid around her waist as hers slipped around his shoulders. Tears welled in his eyes as he melted into the embrace, barely even wincing when his mother petted his throbbing head.

"I'll get some aspirin for you." Leo said and slumped as he walked past the pair of them.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek and tried to quell the guilt that lashed at him as he spotted his father's dejected expression. He had a new mission, he realized, he had to fix whatever mess was before him. Despite whatever Leo and the rest of the family thought, nothing good would come now that the memories of his past lives swarmed about in his brain. Already he was hurting his father, it was just a matter of time before he hurt someone else.

The pills helped only a little. Wyatt's healing, when Chris finally stood long enough to let him close, helped much more. Though the kicked puppy look his brother kept giving him made his chest tighten and his stomach drop. He tried to push that away, he already had so much to think about.

There were too many memories in his mind, more than the two lifetimes he was expecting. They all contradicted each other, disagreeing on both the big and small details. Trying to decipher them all made his head throb and the dizziness return.

Something was wrong, he realized as he bowed beneath the weight of all those lifetimes. There shouldn't be more than one, or two in his head. It was almost like the timeline itself was looping, twisting, and fraying until it was all a jumbled mess. A mess that burned inside his skull.

He wondered, as he perched on the counter and listened to his parents explain things to Wyatt, how he could possibly fix all of it. Who could help him? His family would insist on taking part in his plans, but they might not have the knowledge he needed. The Elders were not beings that he could imagine asking for help. That left who? Who was sensitive enough to the intricacies of time?

* * *

That last question had him seeking seers. He would have started with Phoebe, but he couldn't find the way to ask her to attempt a vision when he couldn't even explain what was wrong. Instead he visited half a dozen 'psychics' that had ads in the phonebook. Charlatans, the whole lot of them.

Chris gritted his teeth and stalked from the smoky room. He ignored the useless fraud as she continued her charade, preaching about a girlfriend and other things that didn't remotely relate to his life. "One more." He muttered to himself. The door slammed shut behind him and the sudden daylight made him wince. He headed off in search of the next psychic's office. "One more muggle then I'll go see what the underworld has to offer."

By that time the ache in his head was a constant. Healing magics helped, for a while. However being near Wyatt brought forth a whole other pain, and so Chris avoided that remedy more often than he probably should have.

His older brother had been in denial for the first couple days. Not surprising, it was hard for Wyatt to contemplate how evil he could have been if his life had gone a bit differently. He had approached Chris on the third day.

"_So, you must really hate me?"_

Chris had denied that, but had no words to explain. He never hated his brother. When Wyatt ruled the world Chris had fought against him because it was the right thing to do. While every other member of the resistance dreamed of and plotted for the death of Lord Wyatt, all Chris wanted to do was save him. It didn't even make sense in his mind, so how could he rationalize it to his brother?

The witchlighter checked the address scribbled on the post it, and then looked at the darkened building. Scaffolding and machinery decorated the torn walls, 'Mal Loup Construction' signs hung from the tape that cordoned off the area. He sighed, but couldn't summon up any disappointment that the last psychic on his list was out of business. What had he been expecting? He should have just started in the underworld.

Chris started to turn away but a crash in the nearby alley drew his attention.

He really hoped it was a demon or some other unsavory character because he needed to vent and fighting was the best way to do that. He moved silently into the darkened alleyway, his gaze flicking between the dumpsters.

A shuffle of feet and a flash of color sent him ducking to the side and dropping to a fighting stance as he turned to face the threat.

It was the psychic, though she bore small resemblance to the smiling, frazzle haired picture that had been in the ad. Only the tiniest sliver of sanity could be seen in her eyes. Her face was contorted with frenzied rage, her lips pulled back in a snarl. The bangles on her arms jangled as she lashed out and her bright scarves snaked in the air around her. She was mad, Chris realized as he dodged her fist and flung her away with telekinesis. She was mad, but not evil. He backed away as she rose again.

"Tu hamishagos drey cheros." She snarled and launched at him, fingers curved like claws. A wave of his hand pulled her from the ground, her feet kicking in the air. He did not have a full whitelighter's gift of tongues, but he had met enough gypsies in his past life to recognize their language.

"I am not your enemy Romani." He said. He kept his voice calm in the hope that it would sooth her.

"You are the Ruv!" She flailed in the air. "You did this."

"Did what?" He let her down slowly but remained ready to lift her again at the first sign of attack. "What do you think I did."

"My sisters, they are mad. They cannot stand it."

He refrained from pointing out that she wasn't all that sane herself. "It?"

"The future is gone. They, we, try to look forward and the void is all that remains. Ah." She pointed to Chris as she noticed that he had gone pale, "You know the void. You've seen how it spirals away into nothing."

He swallowed. "Why—Why would I have seen it?" He resisted the urge to run from her. That was what he wanted, information, no matter how uncomfortable it was for him.

"Because you are the cause. You brought this doom, this madness, upon us all." She snarled the accusations and tore at her hair, frazzled locks twining around her fingers. "You meddled in time little witch. It is tangled now, a paradox that cannot unwind." Her laughter was sudden, sharp, and Chris flinched as the sound pelted through his already tortured mind. "They are coming for you. The reapers, the fanged shadows, they're going to devour everyone until they find you. You'll be lucky if they do."

"Lucky?!"

"**She** is also coming. If she finds you before the reapers do…." She grinned, a feral baring of teeth that fit with the wildness that consumed the rest of her. "There will be nothing left for your gods to have mercy on."

He did flee then, orbing away from the psychic's madness. She wasn't the only one, he realized as soon as he visited the underworld. The seers, the crones, anyone who had been able to glimpse the future was either mad or blind. The problem wasn't with their precognitive abilities. Their powers had not been tampered with, the problem was the future. There wasn't one.

* * *

"I have to go back." It was not a decision he made lightly. He had worked so hard to ensure the future turned out well, he did not want to risk messing up the alterations.

"What?" Piper looked up at him, one eyebrow raised in query. She was elbow deep in flour as she kneaded the dough against the cutting board. A huge family dinner was in the works and the kitchen reflected that fact.

At her signal he sprinkled some oregano onto the mix and clarified. "To the past."

"What? No!"

"Pipe—." He stopped as he saw her expression and quickly reworded, "Mom. I've been thinking a lot about this. The changes I made, if I don't go back and remake them, then the original future will…." He trailed off as Wyatt entered the room, his gaze dropped to his hands and he continued in a mumble. "reestablish itself."

Wyatt winced at his brother's reaction and didn't pretend that he hadn't been eavesdropping. "I'll be evil you mean."

"Yes." Chris's jaw worked, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He forced himself to look up at the older teen. That was not the Wyatt he remembered, he told himself sternly, not the one whose face haunted him in his sleep. He felt like crap every time his brother flinched at his instinctive reactions, and felt even worse because Wyatt was so damn patient about it all.

"I'll go with you."

Chris brought his attention back to the conversation and blinked owlishly at the older teen. His response was interrupted as Piper slammed the cutting board down on the counter.

"No one is going back in time!" She turned away from them and violently scraped the extra flour off of the board and into the sink.

"Mom, you know that he's right."Wyatt said. He paced around the kitchen island until he was near to her, plucked at her arm, and took over the washing so she could wipe her hands and cover the pans full of rising bread dough. Chris looked away from his brother and started grumpily swiping flour and other crumbs off the surface of the island and into the trash. It was ridiculous how much some familial scenes bothered him.

"No! It's not going to happen." She was in full on mother-mode, logic was unlikely to get through her wards.

"I have no choice." Chris said. He hated to upset any incarnation of Piper, but he could not sit back after seeing how terrified all the seers were.

She used a wet wipe to finish cleaning the counter. Her eyes shone but she still looked determined as she turned to him and said. "I'm not losing you again."

"That's why I'm going." He said, "If I don't, all that I did will be for nothing. I can do it better, I'll find a way to come back after…" He paused, trying not to think of Gideon and the athame that had stabbed into his chest. The remembered pain echoed in his head.

Wyatt replaced the cutting board in its place on the counter. "I'm not going to let anything happen to him." He promised. He rubbed Piper's arm and gave Chris a look that was as fierce and protective as their mother was. That promise was for both Chris and Piper, Chris wasn't sure how he felt about it.

* * *

"No." Leo's decisive response was no less emotional than Piper's, though he comprehended that Chris would respond better to reason than to feelings. He raised a hand to hold off Chris's protest. "I understand that you have to repeat the changes you made. I'm not sure if you realize that you're sixteen now, nowhere near how old you were before."

Chris sipped his tea and resisted the urge to pace through the conservatory. "I'm not sure that my age matters." He said, "My memories came back now, for a reason."

"Maybe the reason is so you can **know** your family." Leo suggested. "Did you ever think of that?"

The witchlighter slumped. Disagreeing with his father made him feel like a jackass. "I did, but the splitting pain in my head says otherwise."

"Your mother and aunts are going to figure out something to help that." Leo said. His concern was evident but he was doing his best not to crowd Chris's personal space.

"I know, I just—." He took a gulp of tea. It was made with skullcap, lavender, and chamomile; Paige had insisted it would soothe the pain. It didn't. The mug clinked as he set it on the nearby table. "I can't ignore my instincts Leo—Dad. Sorry."

"Is it really your instincts?"

"What do you mean?" Chris asked and his brows knitted together as he frowned at his father.

Leo sighed, braced himself, and said. "It seems like you are desperate to get away from your family."

The words hit like a fist and Chris could only blink at the older man. "That's not, I'm not. Dammit Leo!" The witchlighter sputtered. His fists clenched and he swallowed the other emotional outbursts that tried to wrench their way up his throat. He dashed his hand across his eyes, stemming the tears before they did more than burn behind his eyelids. "I watched my mother die when I was fourteen, I watched my aunts and so many others die. It hurts to be near them now, but that is not why I need to go."

"They are alive now, **Piper **is alive." His father pointed out. "Why can't you just take a moment to enjoy the fact that you succeeded?"

"But what if it's not permanent!? If I don't hold on, if I don't try hard enough, then I'll never survive losing everyone again."

"That is exactly how your mother feels about you going back." The older man said. "That is how** I** feel."

It was hard not to notice that his father's cheeks were wet with tears. Chris felt an absurd surge of resentment for the older man. Anger was the only emotion that Leo should have been able to ignite in him. Why then were his father's words gripping his heart and twisting it inside his chest? "Dad, I—."

"You died in my arms!" Leo yelled at him. Chris hated himself just a little more as his father made an aborted move to hug him.

"I'm sorry." Was all the witchlighter could say.

"You died in my arms." The older man repeated.

"I am going to the past. Short of binding my powers, neither you nor mom can stop me." Misery wound inside him, knotting around his chest. Chris took a determined breath and averted his eyes from his father's despondent expression. "I'm tired of hurting my family. I just want to go back and do what needs to be done. I'll do my best to survive and when I can return I'll…Find a way to separate my memories. You'll have your **real** son back."

Because he was looking away, Chris didn't see the sudden outraged gaze his father turned on him. "You are my son."

"Leo. Don't. This won't help anything." But his words were useless because Leo had already crossed the conservatory, caught his arm, and hauled him into a tight hug. He thought of struggling, of orbing away, but only for an instant.

"You are my son and don't you dare say otherwise." Leo growled into his hair.

Chris tried to speak, but his throat was tight with emotions and instead he had to bury his face in his father's shoulder to stifle the whimper that emitted from him. He closed his eyes to hold back the tears as Leo's hands rubbed circles on his back and shoulders.

"You are my son and, dammit, I am not going to let you destroy part of yourself just because you don't think it fits with this family."

* * *

"They considered it you know." Wyatt said as he orbed into the room. He then patiently waited while Chris spun to face him. The older Halliwell felt a tiny bit of triumph as his brother didn't immediately catalogue every exit, though the tenseness took long moments to dissipate.

Panic faded, replaced by curiosity. "Who considered what?"

"Mom and Dad considered binding your powers in order to keep you from going to the past."

Chris stared at him for a long moment, recalling his 'talk' with Leo. "Is there any conversation you don't listen in on?" He asked.

Wyatt quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him.

"I swear. You didn't used to be this much of a creeper." Some part of him was uncomfortable with the idea of snarking at his brother, another part was perfectly at ease with the idea. The contradiction made his head throb.

"Maybe I was just too busy, you know, ruling the world and all." Wyatt said; humor was always a good way to cope with the fact that he'd been a tyrannical bastard. "Do you want to know why Mom and Dad didn't force you to stay?"

"Enlighten me."

"They knew you'd find a way around it, and then you'd go without bothering to say goodbye." The older Halliwell crossed his arms and stared pointedly at his brother.

For his part, Chris thought of the spell material he had been gathering and of the notes he planned to leave for his parents to find. After a day full of raw emotions, the thought of dinner with everyone petrified him. He hadn't even thought of how Piper and Leo would feel when he didn't show up. The younger witchlighter couldn't hide the guilt that crossed his face.

"You are going to say goodbye." Wyatt said.

Chris tossed him an unnerved glance. "Have you been peeking in my head or something?"

"No, I don't need to. I may not know **you,** but I know you." His older brother said. " and I know you're trying to spare them and yourself further arguments. Don't, just, don't. You need to let them have their goodbyes."

He sighed and conceded. "I'll be at the dinner." He would tell Piper that her cooking was perfect, that he would miss her, and he would call Leo 'Dad' without stumbling over the word. "I promise."

"Thank you."

* * *

Dinner was tense. The conversation was polite and the aunts' children were adorable, but his impending departure hung over the room. It made things awkward, especially considering that the original reason for the dinner was to welcome him and it had somehow turned into a send off. It clouded his mother's expression until her smile looked so brittle that he feared it might shatter, and his father wasn't even bothering to hide his glumness.

Phoebe was much better at acting perky, asking all sort of inane questions as they dug into the lasagna: Was he going to grow his hair out? Did he need new clothes to go with his new personality? Did he have two favorite bands now or were his personalities in sync about things like that? For that matter did his personalities like the same type of women? By the time she was done, Chris was utterly exhausted and there was still his other aunt to deal with.

However, Paige started off by inquiring whether he had looked at the new additions to the Book of Shadows and was then silenced by a glare from the eldest charmed one. Piper's expression was clear. She wanted no talk of demons or missions at the table. Chris didn't mind that, since he hadn't wanted to admit that he had already snuck upstairs and copied the new spells into a notebook.

Paige's husband Henry and Victor started up a conversation about sports. Chris let himself be engaged and even Leo chimed in once they started comparing the merits of baseball and basketball. Wyatt rolled his eyes at the lot of them and asked why anyone would watch the sweaty players when there were scantily clad cheerleaders to stare at instead, and then he ducked the bit of bread that Phoebe pelted at him.

The food was eaten and conversation faded away, but no one made any move to get up. No one wanted to move onto the next thing yet. Even Chris, with his absolute dedication to his mission, ignored his headache and sought to preserve the feeling of togetherness that emanated from the crowded table. Eventually, it was Phoebe's daughter who sprang from her seat, unable to contain her childish energy any longer. That cue had several of the adults rising as well.

"We'll get the dishes," said Coop. "You guys should—." He motioned to Chris. "Talk." Then he, Harry, and Victor stacked up the plates and pans and headed to the kitchen. Silence descended as Chris was left alone with his brother, his parents, and his aunts.

The witchlighter was the first to make a sound. "I will come back." He glanced at Wyatt and amended. "We will come back." He stared at his parents. To be honest, he had expected them to gang-up on him and present a united front with the aunts at their back; he had anticipated a raging argument. He was not expecting his dad's resigned sigh and the way his mom reached across the table to catch his hand.

"I know you will," Piper said. "But that doesn't make it easier." She sniffled and squeezed his hand in hers, and then reached over with her other to clasp Wyatt's.

"We don't want you to go," Leo said from beside his wife. "But we understand the necessity."

"Thank you," Chris said and grabbed his father's hand, including him in their circle. That instant stretched in his mind as he stared from his mother to his father, memorizing their features and every detail he could gather in that short time. It wasn't that he doubted he would be back, but some hidden part of his subconscious urged him to savor the moment.

"I got you guys something." Phoebe announced once they released each other. She pulled out two boxes that she had stacked beside her chair. "I figure if you're going to be kick-ass demon hunters then you needed some demon-ass kicking accessories."

Chris blushed as he accepted the one handed to him. They were boots, stylish enough to be something Phoebe would buy and…He inspected the material. "These are military grade."

"Yup, and the toes are blessed silver." His aunt informed. "I traded with Yorick, that ex-ranger guy who works with centaurs. I would have gotten you full outfits, but I figured they'd make it hard to be inconspicuous."

"Thanks Pheebs." He said.

"I got you something too." Paige said. "Well, I sort of made it. Here." What she handed him was green and had shoulder straps.

Wyatt spoke up before Chris could. "You got him a purse?"

"It's a satchel." Paige protested. "And I magicked it. It doesn't have endless space, but you should be able to keep a few weapons and a good supply of herbs handy."

"Awesome." Chris said.

"Plus it goes perfectly with your outfit." Wyatt teased.

The younger teen thumped him on the arm and set about taking off his sneakers. They didn't look like they would fit in the bag, but the green material enveloped them easily. Then he put his new demon-ass kicking boots on as he asked Paige. "Is there a way to summon the stuff inside or do I have to dig every time?"

"Just call for it. You know," She held her palm out, called, "Sneaker." And then handed him the shoe back after it orbed to her.

"Thank you Aunt Paige." He said.

He hated goodbyes, but he hugged everyone anyways. He felt that he owed his family more, especially Leo who had tried so hard to make up for the neglect of the original timeline, even though he wasn't really to blame. Tears wet his eyes again, but he forced himself to ignore them as he headed upstairs with his brother. The spell materials were set up in the attic, all that was left was for them to do was say the time spell.

Wyatt knew the younger Halliwell was stalling, he watched him fiddle with the herbs and potions. "Anything else?" He asked.

"Names." Chris said. "Well, your name. I'll be fine going by Christopher but it'd be a bit obvious if we went around calling you 'Wyatt'."

Wyatt still didn't agree with keeping their family in the dark about their identities, but wasn't willing to argue the point at that time. "Got any suggestions?" He asked.

"Peter Johnson." The younger teen smirked at him. "Your nickname could be Dickdick."

Wyatt thumped his arm, absurdly glad that his brother was at least pretending to be comfortable enough to joke. "I've always liked the name Tanner," he said.

Chris wrinkled his nose. "Ewww, no."

"Ryan?"

The witchlighter scoffed. "Very original. How about Wesley?"

"Ugg."

"We can't give you a name that's too cool, otherwise it will be obvious that it's fake," he argued. "Besides, it starts with 'W.'"

"Fine." Wyatt refused to sulk. "Last name?"

"Clouse."

"Wesley Clouse," the older Halliwell shook his head. "Ick, too many 'L's."

"How about Krause then?"

Wyatt thought about it for a moment, and then gave a sudden grin. "That'll be your name too."

Chris blinked at him. "Why?"

"I'm not going to pretend that I'm not your brother."

"Christopher Krause." The witchlighter's brow furrowed as he frowned. "That sounds stupid."

"Chris Krause." Wyatt's grin widened as his younger brother glared at him. "Hey, the name was your idea."

"I reserve the right to veto it."

Magic swirled around the older brother's hand. He held out the I.D. card. "Too late."

* * *

_In the Past….Again_

"Well that was fun." Wyatt kicked off his boots and slouched on the bench. "Although, I always expected the titans to be more badass."

"Yeah, they hardly compare to what came later." Chris agreed. The pair of brothers sat in a small park watching as the few trees were whipped around by the wind. Piper's magic was still playing havoc even though her sisters had talked her down. Lighting and thunder had ceased, but rain continued to mist in the air. The park was poorly maintained, with grass growing over the walking path and untrimmed branches hanging low enough to catch unwary joggers.

"I'm glad you came." The witchlighter said abruptly.

"Really?"

Chris nodded and said, "You're better at dealing with the Charmed Ones, and with Leo."

"They don't respond well to cryptic assholes," Wyatt said, though he had to admit that his 'charm' wouldn't have worked if the Charmed Ones hadn't been feeling such animosity towards the witchlighter. He had used that to endear himself to them. _'Raise your hand if you think Chris is being a jerk. Everyone agrees? Chris, stop being a jerk and go get some pixie dust to unstone the witch.' _Thankfully his brother had played along.

"I'm not an asshole, I'm just….driven."

"You're an asshole," Wyatt said decisively. "I can hardly blame you; it's so weird to be around them when they don't know who we are."

"What's weird is watching you flirt with Phoebe," the younger teen said.

Wyatt turned to him sharply. "What!? I was joking," He exclaimed. "She was joking."

"She was flirting," Chris corrected.

Wyatt shook his head, denial firm in his expression. "That's ridiculous. I'm her….She's my….Well fuck."

Chris laughed at the older Halliwell and turned his gaze beyond the park. The apartment building nearby was equally run down. Barely legible graffiti predicted the end of the world, all across on the walls and boarded windows._ 'The end times is neigh,'_ Chris quirked an amused smile as he noted the misspellings. _'Repent now! For __**she**__ is coming.'_ **She** was crossed out and above that crossed out word, two others were scrawled across the bricks. _'Bad Wolf.'_

"Bad wolf is coming." Chris muttered aloud. The pain in his head had been a steady throb, but as he spoke it exploded through his temples. He fell, collapsing onto the grass, and he must have screamed, because Wyatt leaped off the bench and knelt at his side. The healing touch did little to sooth him as he passed out.

* * *

"Do we have to do this?" Wyatt asked as they stood in the underworld, ashes from demons all around them. "I mean, we know it was Gideon. Why not just kill him? For that matter let's kill Barbas as well."

"That could change the future in unexpected ways," Chris repeated, it seemed he'd said that many times already. To be honest, he wasn't even sure it mattered anymore. The timeline had looped so many times already, each time events unfolded differently. He feared that drastic change might unravel everything.

The witchlighter shook his head and said, "Do you think it is better for mom and the aunts to have to face all these demons instead of us?"

The older brother dusted off his jeans. "Honestly. I think that you have a major martyr complex," he said "The Charmed Ones are capable of more than you give them credit for."

Chris made a face. "But they're easily distracted and so…frivolous."

"Ooh, fancy word." Wyatt grinned at the witchlighter.

Chris glared back moodily and said, "fuck off."

"How's your head?" Since their first night in the past Wyatt would often surprise his brother with that question. Chris was accustomed to ignoring the pain, but his older brother wasn't willing to let it get as bad as it had been that night.

"Hurts." That was an understatement, but it was difficult enough for the witchlighter to say anything besides _'fine.'_

Wyatt raised a hand, healing energy lighting his palm as he held it near Chris's temple. "Better?"

"A little." Chris sighed. "Thanks."

"So. About Gideon…"

Chris looked back at him, knowing his brother wasn't going to drop the issue. "I'll think about it."

* * *

Chris stared at the sword that stuck out of Wyatt's chest. He had known it was a bad idea; bringing his brother with him to the past, facing Barbas before they had Leo on their side, all of it. He should have gone alone, even if he feared the lonesomeness he shouldn't have put someone he loved in the path of danger.

Breathing was hard. The witchlighter felt like his lungs were on fire, burning up from the inside. He knew he should be able to hear himself gasping, he should be hearing the sobs that choked out of his throat, but the only sound that reached him was the drip of Wyatt's blood and the whisper of laughter from the demon of fear.

Barbas stalked around the boy. "I cannot be vanquished, not even by the Charmed Ones, what made you think you had a chance."

His hands were wet with blood, Wyatt's blood, as he rose and stared across his brother's body at the demon. The pain in his head multiplied, pulsing inside his skull as he glared, but it was nothing compared to the ache that writhed and gripped around his heart. He bared his teeth and snarled, "You are going to die."

"I think not," He said, followed by a mocking chuckle.

Chris's hand was glowing as he raised it and pointed his palm towards the older Halliwell. Golden light spread from his finger tips. He could feel it burning in his veins but couldn't bring himself to care about the damage that light would do to his own body. All he cared about was undoing his mistakes. He focused and at his will the light expanded.

The sword exploded into dust as skin healed over. Wyatt gasped back to life, his eyes sprang open, and he searched for Chris. "How?!"

Chris stared blankly at his brother, and then his gaze turned to Barbas. "You think you are so powerful?" He waved a hand, thwarting the demon's attempt to teleport out of the cave.

"Chris." Wyatt spoke. There was fear in his tone, fear of the blankness that shrouded his brother's features.

"I am Bad Wolf. You tiny, pathetic creature." He raised a hand, palm out towards Barbas. "I can see the whole of it, all of time and space. You are nothing but dust."

"No, Chris. Stop!" Wyatt yelled at him, but the demon's body was already glowing, the atoms spiraling apart. The older Halliwell turned his horrified gaze on his brother. "What did you do? Chris, what did you do?"

The witchlighter's mystified gaze turned to him. "Wyatt. I see all... everything that is...everything that was... everything that can be. I can feel the sun and the earth. I can feel the Earth spinning." He reached out with his senses, found the essence of the Elder who could do so much damage to the future, and snuffed out that life. The backlash rattled through him and he recoiled then, backing away and pressing his hands to his temples. "Why does it burn?!"

"Chris." Wyatt pushed himself off the ground and reached for his younger brother. "Let me help. We can figure this out."

"No." Chris's grimace smoothed out, the blank expression returning. "The threat is gone. You must return to your place in time."

"I am not leaving you here. I promised." Wyatt yelled, catching his shoulders and shaking him. "Dammit Chris, you promised!"

"You have no choice." Chris waved his hand and his brother disappeared. He watched as time twisted in the air, replacing the older Halliwell to when he was meant to be. "Now-." He lowered his hands from his temples, closed his eyes, and let the void burn into him. "It is time for this to stop."

The void was not a void, it was a vortex. That vortex was an entity. Not just an entity, it was female and British and….Blonde. "My name is Rose."

Chris couldn't tell if his body was floating or if he had a body at all. He was amazed and incredibly grateful that he could no longer feel pain, otherwise the confusion would probably have hurt. "I thought you were Bad Wolf."

"I am to my enemies, just as you are. To my friends and the innocents, I am Rose." Her voice was toneless, but she still somehow managed to convey emotion.

"Are we friends?" He asked.

"We are alike." She told him. "Sort of. You don't want to be friends?"

"I think I'd like that. To be honest I was expecting you to **eat **me when you arrived."

A frown touched her expression and Chris felt an echo of old frustration. "I tried to send messages." She chased the frown away and laughed. "I suppose I'm not very good at that."

He chuckled along with her, and then sobered up. "I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" he asked. "Can you stop it, fix it somehow?"

"I cannot take the vortex from you as my Doctor will take it from me," she said, her sorrow was touching. "But I can 'fix' the paradox and prevent the reapers from coming for everyone else...If you are willing."

"Willing?" If he could have, he would have gulped. That sounded far too ominous.

"Your existence must end, for all time, erased from past and future."

He let that sink in. He wasn't sure how he could respond to the notion of not existing. It was frightening certainly, but the fear didn't linger. "What about Wyatt? What about the changes I made?"

"They will remain." Rose studied him. "I am talking about removing you from the timeline, your existence will cease. Yet you think only of others."

"I have always been….Expendable is the wrong word." Chris paused a moment, but like always he couldn't come up with the right word. "I was not expecting to survive my original mission to the past and I was okay with that. Saving my brother and our family was worth it."

"You are willing then?"

"Yes, if it will prevent the shadows from coming for my family."

She nodded in understanding and waved a hand. The vortex burned and seethed as time unwound, as it became linear once more.

* * *

_Back to the Future_

Wyatt woke. Despite the obvious silence of the room he held his breath and listened intently, waiting until his lungs demanded air. There were no screams, even though he** knew** that was what had woken him. His father had suggested it might be a charge, calling out for help, but the fact that it had happened nearly every night for years made him reject that notion.

A street light cast a dim glow through the window and he peered into the glum. His desk was against the far wall, and that wall was covered with posters. In spite of the clutter that covered every available inch that portion of the room always felt empty.

The young Halliwell sighed miserably, as he always did when he woke during the night. The emptiness ate at his heart until it had carved out a hole that nothing could fill. The silence suffocated him. It rang through his mind and mocked him with whispers of broken promises.

* * *

A.N.: Phewwwww. I finished it! You know what that means? I can start watching season 6 now (I banned myself from watching it because I knew that if I realized how OOC Chris is then I would have to rewrite everything). I hope it wasn't unbearable. Also, I fell like I should mention this since it bugged me: I know that "Mauvais Loup" should be used for "Bad Wolf" in French, rather than "Mal Loup." However, in Doctor Who, "Mal Loup" was used...So that's what I'm going with.

* * *

**Coming Next  
**

* * *

**Title:** Things that cannot be sacrificed a.k.a. A short drabble inspired by episode one of season six.

**Disclaimer:** If Chris were mine, I would constantly be off doing obscene things to him….and his hair. Well, I'm not sure if it's possible to do obscene things to someone's hair but, you know what, if he were mine I would find a way.

**Words:** 300.

**Summary:** …..It's only 300 words, does it need a summary?

**A.N.:** Sorry, I'm kind of skipping off the list. Now that I'm watching season 6...inspiration is exploding everywhere.


	6. Things That Cannot be Sacrificed

**Title:** Things that cannot be sacrificed a.k.a. A short drabble inspired by episode one of season six.

**Disclaimer:** If Chris were mine, I would constantly be off doing obscene things to him….and his hair. Well, I'm not sure if it's possible to do obscene things to someone's hair but, you know what, if he were mine I would find a way.

**Words:** 300.

**Summary:** …..It's only 300 words, does it need a summary?

**A.N.:** Sorry, I'm kind of skipping off the list. Now that I'm watching season 6...inspiration is exploding everywhere.

* * *

There were very few things that Chris would not do to complete his mission and gain the Charmed One's trust. His alliance with the Valkyries was just one more sacrifice.

Leysa, like Mist and Kara, knew better than to trust him explicitly. She tensed as he orbed into the alleyway. "What are you doing here?"

"My plans have changed, unfortunately." He informed. "The witches, they found Leo sooner than I would have liked."

She gave a shake of her head and spoke sternly, "That's not my problem. We kept our end of the deal."

"I know, and I'm forever grateful." He kept his voice calm, guilt creeping into the tone. "But I can't risk them finding out what I'm up to. I'm truly sorry." She lowered into a fighting stance. Freja had given orders to avoid locking blades with him, after all he had proven his abilities in their arena, but Leysa would defend herself if he attacked. However, she wasn't prepared how simple his attack was when it came.

His fist clenched, telekinetically crushing her heart. Her death was fast and as painless as he could make it, but the guilt dragged at him as he retrieved her necklace and watched her body disappear. "Forgive me."

A choked breath drew his attention; the downed warrior was still dying. Chris knelt beside the man, raising his hand and reaching with his telekinesis. The cop looked back at him, not begging for life and not railing angrily at him. He just looked sad and afraid.

Chris lowered his hand. There were very few things that he wouldn't do to complete his mission. Killing an innocent was one of those things. He unclipped the radio from the cop's vest. "Officer down." He said and rattled off the location, "we need an ambulance."

* * *

A.N.: I want to do a short follow up of Bad Wolf, after seeing how the family responded to Wyatt being erased from existence (during the episode with the Cleaners) I am pretty sure that Chris would be missed even if he wasn't remembered. Review if you want me to do something like that.

Also, I think I am going to do a different fic depicting Wyatt and Chris's adventure in the past. I had a bunch of ideas already, and now that I'm watching season 6 I have even more. For example: Can you imagine how 'good' Wyatt would respond to Leo throwing Chris across the room? For that matter how would Wyatt react to Chris's alliegance with the Valkyries? (in my head the sentence,"I may be a bit of a creeper but you are one seriously sneaky little fuck." is said after Chris sends their father to Valhalla). Chris is kind of a neurotic insomniac...Wyatt would totally drug/spell him to force him to sleep. And others, seriously, there are too many ideas in my head! Tell me what you think of that, or if you have some ideas you'd like me to include when I get started on it.

* * *

Coming Next

Title: A PARAKEET! You turned your sister into a parakeet?!

Disclaimer: None can dispute my claim, except….you know….the real owners. In other words, I own none of it.

Words: Little over 1,000.

Summary: Piper, pregnant for the first time, finds out that her second born is a bit of a trouble maker.

A.N.: This is back before Piper realized she was having a boy, so she still thinks that Melinda is her oldest.


	7. Three-shot part 1: A PARAKEET!

Title: A PARAKEET! You turned your sister into a parakeet?!

Disclaimer: None can dispute my claim, except….you know….the real owners. In other words, I own none of it.

Words: Little over 1,000.

Summary: Piper, pregnant for the first time, finds out that her second born is a bit of a trouble maker.

A.N.: This is back before Piper realized she was having a boy, so she still thinks that Melinda is her oldest.

* * *

A swirl of light blazed on the wall and a figure leapt out, hurtling across the room towards a stack of boxes. Piper raised her hands, aimed, but the figure spun into grey mist before she could vanquish it. Then two more figures leapt from the wall and crashed into the boxes that the first had missed. Piper aimed again, she was ready to blast first and ask questions never, but Phoebe leaped up to defend her and blocked the view. Stupid overprotective sister.

"Owww."

Piper blinked and tilted her head so she could see around Phoebe. It was not a pair of demons that extracted themselves from the wreckage.

"Leo…Phoebe!?"

"Hi Piper." The second Phoebe waved. "Hi….me."

"Hi." Phoebe said, Piper's Phoebe, not the one that had just crashed into the attic.

"Love the hair." The new Phoebe was saying while running a hand through her own shortly cropped locks.

"You too."

"What's going on?" Piper interrupted before they could continue comparing styles.

Phoebe swung her arms and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh, you know, time travel."

"Phoebe." Leo scolded. "We can't."

She waved him down. "I know, I know," she said. "I just- What else am I supposed to say?"

He gave her a stern look, but relented. "Fine. Let's find him so we can get out of here."

"Find who?"

Phoebe had been following Leo and searching around the room but at Piper's question she turned back. "Your second kid," she informed. "By the way, when he is born, ground him. Ground him forever."

"Second kid!" Piper burst out; she was barely pregnant with one, how could she even entertain the idea of having a second?

"Well that's a little harsh." The voice echoed through the room, coming from all directions and no direction at once.

Phoebe spun in a circle, and then decided to simply yell at the air since she had no target. "Harsh?! You are screwing with time! And you turned your sister into a parakeet!"

"Chris." Leo called out. His tone was one that Piper recognized; he was pissed, but trying hard to remain calm.

The voice responded, again from nowhere. "Leo. You sound angry."

"Christopher."

"You should try meditating, I hear it does wonders." The voice ghosted around them and grey mist leaped about the room, swirling and gusting like the wind. Then it changed direction, blasting at Leo and making the whitelighter stagger back a few steps.

"Hey!"

"Chris! Stop antagonizing your father." Phoebe admonished and then ducked as the mist blew in her direction.

"Alright." Piper put her hands on her hips, recalling back to all the times Grams had scolded her and channeling that tone. "That's enough. Get out here now."

"Piper you shouldn't ge-."

"Oh hush." She waved Leo quiet and returned her glare to the rest of the room. There was silence for a beat, and then the mist coalesced into a body. He had Leo's blue eyes, but his wavy hair was dark like hers and he had her cheekbones. He slouched as he stepped over to her, making it less noticeable how much taller he was. "So, you're my son?"

His eyes flicked around the room, then down, anywhere but her. "Yes, just not yet." He said. It was clear that he was a trouble maker, he had Halliwell blood after all, but he knew better than to be insolent towards his mother. Even if she wasn't technically his mother yet.

Piper folded her arms across her chest and gave him a firm look. "You turned Melinda into a bird?"

"It wasn't on purpose," her son, wasn't it weird to think of this teen as 'hers', protested. He then shot a glare at Leo as the whitelighter scoffed. "Mel is doing a project on the dynamics of flight. I did a spell to, you know, help. Didn't quite work how I expected."

Piper's gaze softened. "That's so sweet," she gushed. It was a little misguided perhaps, but his heart was in the right place. All he did was try to help his older sister with homework.

Her Phoebe sidled over to the other Phoebe and cooed, "Our nephew is so adorable."

"Yeah, sure." Leo had his arms crossed, a picture of disbelief as he glared at his son.

"Leo."

He ignored her. "What's your excuse for opening a time portal?"

Chris fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket, shifted uncomfortably, and avoided looking toward his father. "Everyone was yelling at me, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind."

The whitelighter's expression got even angrier. "And why was that a time spell?" He demanded. "What are you inventing time spells for?"

"No Leo. I didn't invent it. It is in a….book." Defiance returned to Chris's expression as he faced his father again.

"What book?"

"Do we really have to do this now?" Piper's son asked. "I mean, it's not like I care. But you're such a responsible whitelighter, I would figure you would want us back in our time before anything got screwed up."

"You know the reversal spell?"

He gave his father a snide look. "Duh."

"Fine. We'll go back to the future, and then we'll talk." Leo said, his arms were still folded and frustration furrowed his brow as he watched his son.

"Fine." Chris turned back to Piper, tone changing again as he said politely, "Bye mom, see you in a few years." Then he moved towards the far wall, arms out with palms up as he started chanting.

_Now is not my proper time._

_So, hear me now and heed this rhythm:_

_In this place I cannot stay_

_Because that would be a crime_

_So would you please-_

_Open the way?_

"You really expect me to believe you didn't make that up?" Leo asked as lights flashed and the portal opened, "That sounds exactly like something you would write."

"I told you Leo, it's in a book." Chris glanced towards Phoebe and said, "Aunt Pheebs, you wanna go first?"

"Yeah sure. Bye Piper, bye me." Phoebe started heading towards the portal that her nephew had opened. Then she turned back to the younger Phoebe. "Oh, do you think I should grow my hair out again?"

"I think we-you are rocking the short look."

"Aunt Phoebe." Chris interrupted the pair of them.

"Right." She waved at her sister and past self once more and stepped through the open portal.

"After you." Chris waved Leo passed and then grimaced when his father didn't move. "Hey, I said the spell, the portal closes once I go through. So unless you want to be stuck here…."

"Fine." Leo stalked into the portal.

"Fine." Chris mimicked once the whitelighter had disappeared into the light.

"Hey," Piper scolded. "Go easy on your father."

Her son rolled his eyes and stepped into the portal after his family.

* * *

"Hey guys, what's up?" Paige said as she and Leo orbed into the attic.

Phoebe gripped at her younger sister's arms, failing utterly to contain her glee. "I'm gonna be an aunt!"

Paige looked over to Piper, or more specifically, to the baby bump that was just starting to show. "Well yeah."

"No not that one. We have a nephew, a time travelling nephew." She bounced as she spoke, unbothered by the way clueless looks Leo and Paige were shooting her way. "He came here. Totally the rebellious teenager; he even had ripped jeans. Then Leo and I showed to drag him back to their time." She turned to her brother-in-law and said, "Oh, Leo. You need to work on your 'Dad' voice."

"My 'Dad' voice?" Leo sounded incredulous.

Phoebe nodded. "Yeah, he was not taking you seriously at all."

A.N.: In Chris's defense, the spell was in a book, a really old book too. You see, he lost his notebook when he went back to see Stonehenge being built. Druids found it and included his magic in with their texts….Don't tell Leo.

* * *

**Coming Next**

* * *

Title: Sacrifices

Words: #-ish

Summary: Phoebe, Paige, and Chris are trapped by a demon that is _fascinated_ by humans (never having seen one before). Chris draws the demons attention to himself and Phoebe gets a glimpse of how much he is willing to give up protecting her and her sister.


	8. Sacrifices

Title: Sacrifices

Disclaimer: If I owned Charmed, then season eight would not be called season eight. It would be called season "We have already learned this lesson but let's rehash it anyways."

Words: 2,500.

Summary: Phoebe, Paige, and Chris are trapped by a demon that is _fascinated_ by humans (never having seen one before). Chris draws the demons attention to himself and Phoebe gets a glimpse of how much he is willing to give up protecting her and her sister.

A.N.: Not as dark as it originally was. I promise.

* * *

It was with great effort that he remained still as he woke.

His body was not in a pleasant position and his shoulders were adamant about informing him of that fact. He hung, suspended by wrists that had gone numb while he was unconscious. His jeans _shushed_ across the stone beneath him but he didn't try to stand. Any movement could alert his captors to his awakened state.

He was in the underworld, obviously, but where? He ignored the discomfort of his body and stretched out his senses.

Sulfur assaulted his nose, overpowering as he sought to identify other scents. There was a faint hint of smoke and his ears located an accompanying cackle, torches. Something dripped, bubbled, and gurgled nearby; the air that wafted against his cheeks was hot and dense with moisture.

There was a clinking, chain links, to his right. Was it a demon or a second captive?

Chris pried his eyes open and peered out from beneath his lids. The orange light of the torches danced across the cavern walls and revealed the figure who slumped a few feet away. Concern swelled through his mind as he recognized his aunt and he gritted his teeth, reining his worry back under control.

Like him Phoebe was bound, manacled wrists pulled towards the ceiling. Unlike him she wasn't bothering to hide the fact that she was awake and uncomfortable.

He waited as the sound of her struggling echoed through the cavern and into the darkness beyond the torchlight. Nothing stirred in response, or at least nothing that the witchlighter could hear. His gaze turned upward and followed the chains up to where the links were swallowed by the stone, as if the metal had grown from the ceiling. Pulling free was not going to be an option, and neither, he noted as he reached for his magic and found it blocked, was telekinesis.

Chris shifted into a standing position and winced as feeling returned to his forearms, pins and needles stabbing from his fingertips up to his elbows. Now that he was moving he could feel that his main weapons, the athame he kept at his back and the blessed daggers in his boots, were gone. But there was still a small blade hidden in a sheath against the curve of his thigh. It wouldn't do much damage to most demons, but the feel of the hilt against his skin was comforting.

"Chris." Phoebe called as she finally looked up and noticed his presence, her voice bounced off the walls. Did she have no understanding of the need for subtlety?

The witchlighter kept his voice low as he turned to her. "Did you get a look at who grabbed us?"

She shook her head and the chains clattered as she resumed pulling.

"Don't struggle, you could dislocate your arms."

A scowl crossed her features. "I can't just sit here."

He sighed, there seemed little point in arguing with her, and turned his attention to their environment. The slosh and burble of liquid could still be heard but with his eyes dazzled by the torchlight Chris could not see far enough into the darkness to find the sound's origin. The stone of the cavern walls and ceiling, at first glance, was plain grey. Closer inspection revealed streaks of deep, glossy red. The witchlighter wondered at the significance of the coloring, then abruptly shook his head and scolded himself for letting his thoughts wander.

There was no point in caring about the stone of the walls. The swirls of color across the grey would hardly help an escape attempt. The only stone he needed to concern himself with was the one a few feet away. It was about the size of a man's fist and could be used as a weapon if he could just-.

"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked.

Chris ignored her and continued to extend his leg. Leaning against the chains was torture for his wrists but the length it added to his reach was worth it. The toe of his boot brushed the stone, still too far away to tip it towards him. He shifted position and tried again.

Stretching and grasping finally brought the stone within his grasp, sort of. He would still need to get his hands free to use it. Sounds echoed from the darkness of the cavern, he hid the stone behind his feet and slumped down.

Air rippled, a demon shimmered into view. There was nothing noteworthy about his appearance, but considering that he dragged a second Charmed One into the cavern indicated that he was something powerful.

"Paige! Paige! What did you do to her?!" Phoebe demanded as she rattled her chains.

"This one is unharmed." Two new lines of metal links slithered out of the ceiling as the demon lifted the witch up. Paige moaned as the metal clasped about her wrists, then again as her limp body was set to hang there. The demon glanced towards the other captives. Mustard yellow eyes blinked as he inspected their bonds. He spoke matter-of-factly, "We do not damage goods before we can sell them."

Phoebe sputtered. Chris had a better hold on his outrage as he demanded. "Sell us to whom?"

"Whoever extends the best offer." The demon turned away, attention leaving the captives as he growled a command into the darkness.

The bubbling noise ceased for an instant, and then the sound of squelching footsteps reached out of the darkness. The figure wavered as it stepped into the light. Strips of algae clung like rags to its body and glistened with wetness. Vapor rolled off its body, danced with the torchlight, and thickened the air with the stench of sulfur. Its movements were not without grace, nonetheless they were awkward. The being swayed, bobbed, and failed to walk in a recognizable rhythm. Apparently, Bipedal locomotion was not a familiar concept.

"You will watch these ones." The demon said once his 'minion?' stood beside him.

The creature's expression was hard to read, the features rippled and something glinted in the colorless eyes as it studied them. Wisps of steam surged from its lips and words gargled from its throat. "They are human?"

"These are witches." A clawed hand indicated Paige and Phoebe, and then the demon glanced at Chris. "That one is not." Claws tapped against his thigh as he shifted impatiently. "You will watch them."

"I have never seen humans." The subordinate hummed and murmured. "I will watch." The clear gaze fixed on the captives as the demon shimmered out of the cavern. Chris felt some unnamed fear grip his chest as he noted the avid inquisitiveness that glistened in the watery eyes. This wasn't a demon, it lacked the maliciousness that was expected from evil creatures, but that didn't make it safe. It was formed of water and fire, the contradiction would make it hard to vanquish. Especially considering the limited options they had available.

* * *

"Never seen humans." The garbled words were repeated. Slimy dreadlocks quivered atop the demon's head as it 'he?' swiveled to gaze at each captive in turn. "My siblings spoke of them."

Phoebe balked away from the hot steam that emitted as his hand extended towards her. The putrid stench of rotten eggs leaped up her nose, and then flung itself down her throat and into her lungs. Gagging, the witch kicked out blindly. Her foot connected but not with anything solid.

Puzzlement and wariness shifted across watery features as the demon shuffled backwards. He burbled and whined, the sound echoed petulantly through the cavern. Fingers, or at least what passed for finders on the demon's hands, flexed. Then the clear eyes shifted to where Paige hung lifelessly.

"Hey!" Phoebe rattled her chains but neither her voice nor the sound of metal drew his attention back to her.

"Your master will be angry if you damage her." Chris spoke up.

Phoebe shot the whitelighter a dirty look. How could he be so void of emotion when the demon was sidling up to Paige's limp body?

"Human females are fragile." Chris continued speaking. "You are an elemental, aren't you? She'll be burned if you touch her."

Steam hissed from the demon's lips and he gargled unhappily. "This one is not the only thing for sale."

"The witches are worth more." Chris argued. "Your master will be less forgiving if they are harmed."

Dread-locks shivered and his translucent eyes swung away from the unconscious witch. Moisture squished across the cavern floor as the demon left Paige's side, skirted well out of Phoebe's range, and approached the third captive.

"Chris." Phoebe hissed but the whitelighter didn't look at her. "You can't."

"Phoebe. Shut up, please." He said.

Relief and horror twisted about inside of her chest. How could he be so willing sacrifice himself? Not that she was ungrateful that he took the demon's interest away from Paige. But she liked the whitelighter, she didn't want to watch as the scalding touch raised blisters across his cheek and down his neck. Chris's expression made things worse. His face was empty, features blank and detached.

Then his eyes shifted, glinted with light that wasn't from the torches. His lips barely moved as he started to mumble. Phoebe strained to hear, but then found she didn't have to as the singing chant resonated in the cave.

_I am cold._ The words crackled and snapped in the muggy air. _My breath is the wind that scours the mountain tops,_ A breeze of mint overrode the stench of sulfur, __and my fingers are the claws that grip the winter-land. My essence is solid ice. My power extends beyond what I am. _

The witch could feel the cold expanding. She could see it, blue wisps reaching from Chris, to the air, to the demon's hands on his chest. _**I am cold**__._ It wasn't magic that she was familiar with, it was unlike witch magic or any whiteligher gifts.

The demon ceased its wavering, the glistening moisture hardened to ice. Vapor no longer billowed within the cavern and the soft sloshing sound had stopped for good. It was frozen solid. Chris raised his foot and kicked it away.

Shards of ice flung about the cavern as the demon toppled over and shattered against the cavern floor. Phoebe winced away as sharp chips and bits glittered in the air. Her gaze shifted back to the whitelighter.

He swayed and his hands shook as he leaned on the cuffs. His expression was no longer blank, instead relief crossed his features and he said, "I am so glad that worked."

"You didn't know it would?!"

He glanced towards her and shook one arm, rattling the chains above him. "These block most magic."

She could only stare at him, horrified that he had taken the chance. "What would you have done if it didn't work?"

He shrugged, "It did work."

"But that-."

"Phoebe," His voice cracked slightly and he looked away from her. "Can we focus on getting free? That's more important right now."

A frown played across her face as she studied him. He was holding together, but not with the same imperturbability that he usually displayed. "Can you use the same magic to…" she shook her wrists, "undo the cuffs."

He tugged on the cuff, trying to make his hand slip through. As she had realized when she tried it, the cuffs were too tight. "It's not that precise. But I have an idea. Maybe…Damn." The witch watched as his expression transformed, determination in his eyes. It was the same look that he had when he drew the demon over; an idea stirred in his mind, probably one that most people wouldn't consider.

The whitelighter pressed his hands together and Phoebe realized what he had planned just in time to turn away from the sight. "Jeez, don't-!" The pop of his thumb dislocating cut off her protest. She slammed her eyes shut, listening to his hiss of pain as he slid free. "Will Leo be able to heal that?"

"It's self inflicted…so no." Chains rattled and ice crunched beneath his shoes as he worked on the second cuff. A small knife had appeared from somewhere and the whitelighter used the thin blade to work at the lock. A few blisters, jostled by his movement, had burst right beneath his jaw line, blood gushing down to pool at his collarbone and soak into the neck of his shirt.

Concern welled in the witch. "At least he can take care of those."

"To be honest," Chris shook his hand free as the cuff released its grip. "I'd rather not deal with him tonight."

"Chris-."

He stepped over to her. "Hold still." She watched him closely as he loosened the cuffs and freed her. It was times like that, when Chris was tightlipped, hurting, and so persistently anti-Leo, Phoebe wished that her empathy wasn't so useless around him. She couldn't even read his facial expressions because it had closed down again, except for a slight wince as movement aggravated his injuries. "Do you think you can hold Paige up while I get her loose?"

"Sure." She rubbed at her wrists and looked down as her shoe crunched ice against the cavern floor. "I thought whitelighters couldn't kill."

"It's an elemental." Chris said, as if that explained everything, he saw her bewildered expression and elaborated. "It's not dead. The pieces will form together once they thaw."

Phoebe gulped and kicked a few larger bits of ice away from the pile as she went to hold up her unconscious sister. Knowing that the demon would live again still didn't make Chris's actions pacifistic, he had done harm even it if wasn't permanent. But for once she was grateful for the whitelighter's secrets, she could worry about what it all meant after they were home.

Blue orbs enveloped the three captives as Paige was cut loose. The torchlight danced across the cavern, reflecting off the swaying chains and gleaming across the shards that littered the floor. The only sound was the cackle of fire and the crackle of melting ice.

End Note: The demon was not too difficult to vanquish, once they realized he was just a Chezick demon (anti-sandman that was only able to put them to sleep when they weren't expecting it). Paige was fine, a little sore around the wrists but otherwise just cranky about missing her date with Richard. Chris, since he still insisted on not calling Leo, allowed Phoebe to help him make a salve for his burns.

* * *

A.N.: So sorry for the long wait. I went on a snowshoe hike to some hot-springs, hence where the elemental came from…that trip also gave me ideas for upcoming drabbles, yay. Then I started reading again (T.A. Barron "Merlin's Dragon") which is where the idea for the chant came from. Now I want to turn Chris into a baby dragon *le sigh* because Basil reminds me of him. So convinced that he is insignificant, going on an epic quest to save the world, and after he succeeds and is offered a reward… "All I want is a bigger tail." Onward to the next drabble!

* * *

Coming Next

* * *

Title: Three Terrible Twos

Words: 2000

Summary: Piper does a spell to give her and her sisters a day where they are able to be carefree….consequences ensue.


	9. Three Terrible Twos

**Title: **Three Terrible Twos…Well they're terrible, though they're not actually two year olds.

**Words: **2000

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, nope, not at all.

**Summary: **Piper does a spell to give herself and her sisters a carefree day…consequences ensue.

* * *

**Paige**

It really wasn't so bad. Sure the girls were pretty much useless when it came to magic, but at least they left him alone with the book and didn't argue quite as much. He kept an eye on each of the charmed ones, sitting on the couch in the living room with the book of shadows across his lap.

His mother, or rather the de-aged past version of her (yeah…his brain was starting to hurt just thinking about that), was cross-legged on the floor with a recipe book before her. To be honest he had no idea what she was doing, but the notes she was sloppily jotting on a scrap of paper made him cringe and mentally declare he would not be eating her cooking for a while. Jelly and pickle sandwiches indeed.

Phoebe had long since given up reading the stack of 'Ask Phoebe' letters that lay before her. Instead she was doodling on the backs of each paper with the crayons he had scrounged out of the attic for her. She was also humming. Chris couldn't be certain of the song, but he had no doubt that it was from some boy band…and it would be stuck in his head for at least a week.

He glanced over to where Paige was, and then blinked as he realized that the toys she should have been playing with were left abandoned. His youngest aunt was nowhere to be seen. That moment, of course, was when he heard both her scream and the klaxon call of _charge in danger._ The book of shadows thumped as it fell to the floor.

Dropping into battle stance as he orbed into the bedroom, Chris flung his gaze about in search of the threat. There was no demon, just Paige.

In one hand she held a curling iron, in the other a clump of hair. Her face screwed up, lips wobbling and moisture welling in her eyes. "I j-just want-ted to b-be bootif-ful." She wailed.

"Oh," he breathed, reassured that she was in no physical danger. Then a different kind of dread filled him, "Oh."

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks. "Now it's all r-ruined and I'll never be p-pretty!"

"Paige, honey." He caught the iron and tugged it out of her fist, unplugging it from the wall and setting it aside. "You haven't ruined anything."

"B-but," She sniffled and waved the clump of hair at him. "I w-will never be beautiful."

"Paige. You are beautiful."

"No, not like her." She pointed to the magazine on the floor, he hadn't noticed it before. Across the cover was a model, smoky eyes framed by strawberry-red curls.

Chris frowned and tugged his aunt into a hug. Paige was known for her independence and selflessness, not for insecurity and vanity. How was he supposed to deal with this? This wasn't a situation he could fix. "Tell me about her."

"Who?" Paige blinked blearily up at him, eyes and cheeks still wet.

"Her." His finger tapped on the magazine.

She sniffled. "She's pretty."

"But what else?" He elaborated as his aunt scrunched up her face. "Is she nice? Is she happy? What's her favorite color?" He hoped he wasn't making things worse. Maybe it would have been better to simply tell her that the hair would grow back. It was too late to change tactics though, so he continued. "Do you think she could protect the world from demons? Would she put all her energy and time into caring for her students?"

A sullen frown crossed the young girl's face. "Don't know."

"Exactly." He knelt to her level. "Paige, listen to me. You are a beautiful, amazing person. Even when your hair isn't perfect you are loving and selfless and that is far more important than being pretty." Chris caught her gaze, trying to press assurance from his mind to hers. "Okay?"

She looked no happier, but she did lean her head against his shoulder and mumble, "okay."

"Do you want me and Piper to make cookies?"

"Yes."

* * *

**Piper**

She didn't really help. Instead she perched on the counter and watched him like a hawk: scrutinizing while he scooped out the flour and mixed in the sugar, scoffing at the way he melted butter, and judging the way he cracked the eggs. From the smug little grin that crossed her face, he knew that she knew exactly how uncomfortable her gaze was making him.

"You can't forget the secret ingredient." The eldest charmed one chirped as he blended the mixture.

Dough clung to his fingers and he clanked the spoon against the bowl. "Oh really, and what is that?"

She perked up, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. "Love." She said, not quite managing the mysterious air that she was trying for.

He didn't realize, but his self-satisfied expression matched hers while he reached into the spice cupboard. "Here I was thinking it was nutmeg."

"That's a family secret. How'd you know it?" She demanded, suspicious flaring.

The witchlighter winced as he realized that her smile had vanished. "That's my secret." He said with a sigh. Of course Piper wouldn't give him a break, even when she was transformed into a youngster. He mixed in a dash of the spice and snatched up a clean spoon. He scooped out a generous hunk of the mixture, deterring anymore questions from his mother as he offered the treat. "How's that?"

Piper took a bite off the spoon and her face scrunched up as she judged the dough. "Acceptable."

He scoffed at her. "Only acceptable? Let's just see what the other experts say." He pulled two more spoons from the drawer and turned to where his aunts sat on the island.

* * *

**Phoebe**

Splat.

Chris raised a hand to his hair, fingers contacting the chunk of dough that clung to the back of his head. He turned. "Girls?"

His older aunt squirmed in her chair and didn't look at him. "It was Paige's fault."

The vehement rebuttal was instantaneous. "Was not!"

"Was too. you moved." Phoebe said, stating her case with an air of certainty.

"Did not. Your aim's just bad."

Phoebe gasped at the accusation and snatched up another handful of dough, flinging it in the general direction of her younger sister. "My aim's awesome, I'm ninja! You're stupid."

"Hey!" They ignored his yell and dough soon filled the air, thrown by Phoebe's hands and Paige's orbing telekinesis. It splattered on the walls and stuck to the ceiling.

Chris flung out a hand and the mixing bowl disappeared altogether, orbed elsewhere. He stalked over, catching each girl by the arm. Firstly he fixed his attention on the older. "Now, you listen here Prudence!" All it took was the sight of his miniaturized aunt staring up at him to make the witchlighter realize that he had called her by her daughter's name. "I mean Phoebe."

"You called me Prue!"

"I-."

She yanked her arm away and tore out of the kitchen as fast as her legs would go.

"Shit!"

"That's a bad word." Scolded Piper as she licked her spoon clean, she had been watching all from her throne on the counter.

He rolled his eyes at her, sarcasm burning his tongue. "Sorry _**Mom**_." He said, and then stalked off after his aunt before he noticed that her expression had frozen.

* * *

**Demon**

His name was Nosrox, the great and pow-. Oh who was he kidding? His father was right when he said that the young demon would never amount to anything. His lack of bloodlust shamed their family, their entire clan.

Now was his chance to atone. Death at the hands of the Charmed Ones would clear away any black mark caused by his presence. With a shimmer he appeared in the house.

Determination steadied his nerves as he peered from beneath his hood. He expected the witches to come pouring from the shadows, their magic tearing at anyone who dared to enter their abode uninvited. He was not expecting the human child that raced into the room and nearly collided with him.

She stumbled, stared, and then ran screaming in the opposite direction. "Demon! Chris help!"

Nosrox took a breath, about to raise his voice in complaint. He was supposed to be vanquished by a Charmed One, not whoever 'Chris' was. Unfortunately his protest went unheard as power cackled in the air and suddenly the demon's body was very intimate with the wall.

Telekinesis picked him up again and flung him to the floor. The attacker was very un-sportsman like, not giving the demon even a chance to retaliate. Fire licked at Nosrox's robes and he strained to look up. _At least everyone would believe he was slain by the Charmed Ones, was_ his last thought as he was flung headfirst into the wasteland. No one would ever suspect it was their whitelighter that vanquished him.

* * *

**Leo**

"You should have informed me about this." He said.

Chris rolled his eyes and pointed out. "I told you that we had a small problem."

"This is_!" The elder glared, paced, and motioned at the three miniaturized witches. He couldn't deny that the whitelighter had come to him for help earlier in the day but, like always, he hadn't bothered to explain.

"They're small, and it's a problem. Hence 'small problem.'" The whitelighter's tone needled at Leo's nerves and, damn, he was doing it on purpose. Chris was a mass of contradictions. Half of the time it seemed his goal was to gain their trust; the rest of the time he did his best to piss everyone, especially Leo, off.

The elder rubbed his forehead, he would not let the whitelighter anger him. "Tell me you at least tried to find a reversal."

"It can't be reversed." Chris informed and deliberately didn't grin at Leo's glare. "However, there is a time limit. The spell will wear off in-," with an exaggerated move the whitelighter examined the back of his bare wrist. "An hour and a half."

* * *

A.N.: Okay, I officially like having Chris mess with Leo.

* * *

Coming Next

* * *

Title: Snippets From a World Gone to the Wolves

Words: The shortest snippet is 59 words and the longest is 633

Summary: Chris Krause (differentiated from Christopher Halliwell by his scars) and Wesley Krause have a lot of work to do. Changing the _past_, _fixing_ the _future_, and _saving_ the present... All the while pretending that they're not related to the Charmed Ones. Here are some snippets from their adventure.


	10. Snippets from a World Gone to the Wolves

**Title:** World Gone to the Wolves

**Summary/A.N.:** I am figuring out the logistics of Chris Perry being helped in past by a 'good' version of Wyatt.

So far, I think that it will begin with Christopher Halliwell almost dying (killed by his past life the way Phoebe was nearly killed by hers). Wyatt goes into the past and warns Chris Perry that the mission/Gideon will kill him. Then Wyatt realizes how lonely Chris P. is in the past and decides to stick around. Thus the 'brothers?' begin an awkward and emotionally challenging adventure.

There are many ideas I am toying with: I want the family to recognize Wyatt/Wesley first, cue jealousy from Chris. I want Chris to have a new power that he has absolutely no handle on, to the point where he must take potions to control/suppress his emotions (I'm thinking nature based magic: weather, earthquakes, etc. The kind of power that could cause dire consequences if a suspicious Leo uses magic to counteract the emotion-controlling potion). I want Chris and Wyatt to kidnap Little Wy at some point, resulting in Leo attacking Chris and Chris stating, "You are seriously the world's worst pacifist."

I have so many more ideas, but I'd appreciate any input on that ^ before my head explodes.

Meanwhile, here are some snippets that my brain cooked up.

* * *

Chris and Wyatt.

They fit together, mostly.

They are like old puzzle pieces, designed and destined to be either at each other's sides. But the cardboard is worn. Different pasts and experiences make it so the interlocking parts don't, _**can't,**_ attach perfectly. They still form a picture, but the lines are blurred and the colors don't match just right.

* * *

Inferiority Complex

Chris always needs to prove himself. To his family, to the world, to **him**. He has to prove that he is not just a pathetic reflection of his brother's magnificence. He is not as strong, so he must be smarter. He is not as charismatic, so he must be more manipulative. The Powers That Be have not gifted him with as many powers, so he must be cleverer with the ones he has.

He pushes himself to the point of burnout. Deep down he knows, despite all of his efforts, he will never be good enough.

* * *

Wyatt is used to feeling needed. He spent his life being the older brother, being the one who barged in and tried to fix things. Even though he didn't always manage to make the bad better, he knew that his efforts were appreciated. But that had been with a different version of Chris.

This Chris has a hard time accepting help, especially from Wyatt. Constant fighting and repeated betrayals took their toll on his ability to trust. Years of loneliness impressed on him the need for self-sufficiency. Honed survival instincts force him to search for ulterior motives when Wyatt paces into the room and, without even knowing what is going on, offers, "Can I help?"

The younger brother continues stirring and his gaze rises from the steaming cauldron. His eyes flick up to Wyatt, then to the herbs scattered across the table, and then to the stack of notebook paper off to one side. A frown plays on his lips and he shakes his head, tension makes his shoulders twitch. "I've got this."

Before, Wyatt would have disregarded the words as pride. He would have started sorting the spell ingredients. Or he would have read through the spells scrawled across the leaflets of paper and teased about Chris's idea of rhythms. But this is a different version of Chris.

It takes a great deal of willpower for the older brother to settle in the nearby chair. He doesn't like it when he's not needed, but he understands that Chris needs him to back off sometimes.

* * *

There are many differences between the Chris that grew up in a world where the Twice Blessed was a tyrant and the one that had a functional family. Even so, Wyatt sometimes has trouble separating them in his mind.

Chris –both incarnations- cooks when he is stressed.

The brothers have taken over a rundown apartment. The building itself is condemned but won't be torn down yet because the paperwork got _**lost**_, in other words, misplaced by magic means. There is no electricity but the kitchen is equipped with a gas stove.

Wyatt orbs into the room. "You know that the oatmeal was here before we moved in?"

One shoulder rises in a shrug and a frown creases the shallow wrinkle between his eyebrows. The kitchen isn't stocked so there isn't much for him to work with. "Did they vanquish the Streip?"

"Have you seriously spent the entire day worried about that?" Wyatt asks and with a flick of his wrist he orbs one of the newly baked cookies to his waiting palm. It's more of a biscuit than a cookie, since they have no sugar. "Of course they didn't. The aunts had dates and mom is contacting specialists because she thinks I don't interact enough. Not me, me. Little Wy." He clarifies, takes a bite of the biscuit, and then speaks around the mouthful. "Where are you going?"

Chris stalks to the adjacent room where their magic supplies are spread in a manner that is vaguely organized. "To vanquish the Streip."

"Dude," The older brother chokes on some crumbs. Chris made it edible but not even he can get the perfect texture when he is missing half the ingredients. "You know that it will take the power of three."

"I made potions." The vials are the only things in the room that are arranged, sorted by potency in an almost obsessive fashion. He hands Wyatt a crumpled, folded bit of paper and says, "This spell should work."

Wyatt knows exactly how difficult Chris can be when he is that determined. It is a family trait after all. The older brother argues anyways. "Or you could chill. Seriously, the Streip is a powerful demon, but he's not after little me."

"We don't know that."

"You have no evidence that he's a threat."

The petulant scowl makes Chris look painfully young. "So what?" He snarls and moves to gather up his vials.

"So, just wait, Chrissie." Wyatt reaches out a hand, power curling at his fingertips. It is a simply jab with telekinesis, meant to spin his brother around. He had done it all the time, before, as a playful way to make Chris listen when he was being stubborn.

The response is not playful.

For months later the Wyatt-shaped hole in the wall would serve as a reminder that he needs to differentiate between the two incarnations of his brother.

* * *

Leo is doing this to protect his family from whatever threat the young men pose. The Elder knows they are more than they say. For one: they're not true whitelighters. For two: the 'brothers' hardly know each other. Yeah, he knows they're up to something and he is going to prove it. That conviction does not prevent him from feeling guilty, voyeuristic, when he orbs in during the middle of personal debates and overhears certain things.

There is no wind in the underworld. The air is stuffy and still, words don't travel far.

"I am not bisexual." Every line of Chris's figure screams defensiveness. Torchlight flickers across his face, deepening lines and making him appear far older.

Wesley raises open hands, placating or surrendering. "There's nothing wrong with being bi."

Arms cross and eyes squint at the older brother. "I didn't say that there was anything wrong with it, I'm just not." Chris says. His voice is even but there is a sharp tone hidden in there, one that Leo hears all the way from the other side of the tunnel.

Wesley nods, posture open as he accepts Chris's assertion. There was a crinkle at the corner of his eyes and a smile playing across his lips. Unlike the onlooker, he hasn't realized that his younger brother isn't going respond well to teasing on this subject. "Okay."

Chris mimics the nod, but his expression remains closed, and he takes a few steps into the tunnels. Shoes scuff across the loose dirt on the floor and send a wave of red dust through the air. Then he pauses, turns, and demands. "What did you mean by that anyways?"

The older brother seems surprised by the faint trace of anger in Chris's question. "I didn't mean anything."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"It's just conversation." Wesley shrugs helplessly. "And it's now over. You're not bi, you've never slept with a guy, never been interested in any guy." He starts walking away, and then turns back because Chris isn't following.

"Well, I have…you know. With a guy." The younger brother says, "but it wasn't anything." He scowls and fidgets. "I needed information on Tanix demons."

"You traded sex for information?!" Wesley blurts out. There is a mixture of emotions twisting across his face. Horror, outrage, and guilt are just the ones that Leo readily recognizes. The older brother stares at Chris, sees the dark eyes and the defensive posture, and rewords whatever he was going to say. The chuckle sounds hollow, humor offered as a salve. "At least it wasn't for money." He pales when his younger brother doesn't respond. "Oh god, please tell me you haven't-."

Silence stretches between them. There is no movement save for Chris's hands as his fingers rip at the hem of his sleeve, Leo doesn't think the young man is aware of the motion.

"Chris…"

"Five seconds ago, you told me not to tell you." Chris snaps and stalks away with Wesley hurrying at his heel. The Elder lingers behind, silent and introspective, waiting until the footsteps fade before he orbs home.

**End Note:** First off, I don't see Chris Perry as bisexual. But on the other hand, there is very little he wouldn't do to complete his mission. I am toying with the idea of making Christopher Halliwell bi in the "World Gone to the Wolves" fic. If I do, then it won't be a big part of the story, just an extra bit of drama that Chris Perry and Wesley have to deal with (*Wesley is the 'good' older version of Wyatt that joins Chris Perry in the past. He can't use the name Wyatt because Piper and co. might catch a hint for once in their lives*).

I would love to hear any opinions on this.

* * *

**Coming Next**

* * *

**Title:** Wavelengths

**Words: **I'll aim for 1,000.

**Summary:** Cole is alright with his new form of existence because he can still see his love, Phoebe, even if she can't see him. Cole is alright, that is, until he realizes that the Charmed Ones new whitelighter can see him.

* * *

**A.N.:** Does anyone know of any fics/crossovers where Chris is not related to the Charmed Ones? I like the idea of him being a part of some other powerful line and having different reasons for saving Wyatt. I even have a story rattling around in my brain that has Chris as the grandson, or great grandson, of Fitzpatrick McCorrigan (high fives anyone who recognizes that name).


	11. Wavelengths

Title: Wavelengths

Words: Nearly 1,400

Summary: Cole is alright with his new form of existence because he can still see his love, Phoebe, even if she can't see him. Cole is alright, that is, until he realizes that the Charmed Ones new whitelighter can sense him.

* * *

"Okey d'okey. I'm just going to finish the washing first." The oldest Charmed One said and flounced from the attic.

"No but wait, the demons are more…" The whitelighter trailed off and scowled. His pen beat an irritated tattoo on the book of shadows. He muttered to himself. "They're more important."

Cole chuckled. Even when under a spell Piper wasn't one to be bossed around, "Mules have nothing on a Halliwell's stubbornness."

"You're telling me." Chris scoffed and then his fidgeting fingers froze. His gaze came up and darted around the room. One hand rose from the pages and into the air, a silent threat for a silent, empty room. "Who is here?"

"That," Cole spoke slowly, his eyes locked on the blue sparks that skittered and danced like quicksilver across the young man's fingertips. "Is not a whitelighter trick."

The not-whitelighter looked around, as if he could hear a scattered, nonsensical echo of the words. His movements were subtle as he took a stance that, to Cole's practiced eyes, left him more prepared to fight. "Show yourself."

"Would if I could." Cole said. He had suspected that something was off about the new whitelighter, especially since Leo had been conveniently promoted, leaving the position of the Charmed Ones' whitelighter open. There was the proof, staring him in the face. Or at least Chris was trying to stare, which was hard because he couldn't actually see the Limbo bound demon.

"I don't know who you are." Chris spoke to the empty room. "I don't know what you want. If you are looking to hurt Wyatt or his family, I can tell you I won't let that happen. You see, I do have a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over several long lifetimes. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you." He closed his fist, the sparks of light died, and the not-whitelighter turned back to the book. In his opinion the point had been sufficiently made.

Cole shuddered, despite the fact that he was already dead. "You see, it's when you say stuff like that. Makes me think you might be legitimate." He sidestepped as magic spun through the air beside him. A whirlpool portal opened and Cole continued, "It's stuff like this—"

"Okay, are you out of your mind?" Chris demanded of the Valkyrie that stepped out, "What are you doing here?"

"This makes me think you're up to no good."

* * *

"Phoebe, I know you can't hear me, but you have to hear me." Cole followed her pacing, voice raised as he yelled straight into her ear. "You can't trust the whitelighter, he is not what he seems." He moved back as she spun towards him. For a long moment he stared into her brown eyes and felt that, one some level, she actually could see hm. Then he had to step to the side so she wouldn't walk through his incorporeal form. "He did something to Leo, and to Piper. Dammit Phoebe, can't you see that your sister is not acting normal?!"

Frustration pulled a growl from his throat. At one time he had been the most powerful demon, powerful enough to slay the Triad and to rule the underworld…Now, he couldn't even speak to the woman that he loved. He couldn't stop some villain from coming in and manipulating everything. "I don't know what he's up to. You have to be careful."

Phoebe paced, unaware that anything else was happening in the room. She turned at the sound of orbing. "Alright, can we get this started? Because I have to g-." She noticed the dogs lined up in front of her sister. "Where did they come from?"

Paige gave a sheepish shrug. "He wouldn't let me take them back first."

Cole didn't pay attention to the rest of the witches' conversation. His gaze was on the not-whitelighter, who was glaring right at him. Or at least he was glowering in the general direction, as if he could sense that the demon was there. Then the young man shook his head and turned to Phoebe and Paige. "Okay, do you guys mind? We have to summon the Trok Demon while he's still on our plane."

* * *

"Leo's missing." Chris admitted slowly. The limbo bound demon gave a smug smile as he watched. Now the witches would begin to suspect, and soon whatever trouble the not-whitelighter was planning to cause would be dealt with.

"What?" Phoebe exclaimed, as if there was any sentence that could be mistaken for the sentence Chris had uttered.

Paige asked. "Missing? How long?"

Cole had to admit that he was impressed. The not-whitelighter did not fidget beneath the witches' gazes. His eyes flicked between the two sisters as he spoke, but there was no nervous twitching. He was very good at lying, probably had years of practice. "Since the last time you saw him. Anyway, the Elders think he's been kidnapped."

"By whom?" Phoebe was always one to ask the obvious questions.

"How should I know?"

"Maybe because you put him there." Cole said, not surprised when the not-whitelighter's gaze briefly snapped towards him. He was getting the handle on what would catch Chris's attention. The Limbo bound demon studied Chris as the sisters continued to demand information. There was something vaguely familiar about the young man. Perhaps he was the human form of a demon that Cole had known back when he was Balthazar…except that wouldn't explain his ability to fool the elders.

Even if he had stolen the orbing ability from a real whitelighter, the others would still sense the taint of demonic energies. Somehow he had tricked them all.

* * *

"That was very well done, convincing Piper that she is a Valkyrie." Cole said as the three witches orbed away to Valhalla, leaving the room empty save for Chris and the incorporeal demon. "One might say you're an expert on manipulating the family."

The young man looked around the room, eyes unfocused as he _**listened**_. He knew Cole was there, but whether or not he could hear and understand the words was a whole other story. The limbo bound demon paced around him as he considered the options. Even if he couldn't physically harm the not-whitelighter, maybe he could drive him insane before Chris could hurt the Charmed Ones.

"I don't know how you expect to get away with…what you're up to." He stopped his pacing and directly in front of him. The young man's gaze shifted on to him, Chris was seeing something at least. "You should know that it is wrong to twist the family around like this." He said and opened his mouth to add that the young man would pay for it, but Chris interrupted.

"Oh Puhlease Uncle Cole. You of all people should understand that the means are justified by the end." The words were uttered in a distracted, flippant manner. Chris didn't actually realize what he had said until afterwards.

"Uncle?!" Cole choked on the word, staring at the young man. Suddenly the faint familiarity Cole had felt earlier was clear; Chris had Halliwell blood.

"Cole!? Well fuck, I totally forgot you were still in Limbo back then…" Chris trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. His expression changed, softened as he realized that it wasn't a threat that he was hearing. "I'm Chris by the way. Um…Piper's younger son. I'm here because, well, you know how it goes. Wyatt became the new source…and" His words cut off and Cole watched the emotions that played across his features. The Limbo bound demon was willing to bet that that was the first time Chris had said those words aloud. "And, I'm the only one left to fix everything."

The utterance of those last words caused a surge of dread within Cole's body. That meant that everyone else was gone, that Phoebe was….The thought was rejected before it could form. "You're not alone," he said and watched the—watched Piper's son look up toward him, "I can't do much of anything, but you're not alone."

End Note: That got surprisingly sappy near the end there. And OOC for Cole. But meh, I like the beginning at least….and the fact that I snuck some quotes in there.

* * *

Coming Next

* * *

Title: Babysitting a Witch

Words: We'll see, aiming for 1,000

Summary: Chris went gallivanting in the past again. He left the portal slightly ajar so he could get back to the future easily. Unfortunately for him, Phoebe's youngest daughter is quite curious.


	12. Three-shot part 2: Babysitting a Witch

**Title:** Babysitting a Witch

**Words:** over 3,000. Woot

**Disclaimer:** *blinkblinkblink* I own a puppy, and he is adorable, but I do not own Charmed.

**Summary:** Chris wanders into the past again, followed by his curious cousin.

**A.N.:** This didn't turn out quite as I wanted. It also ended up darker than I planned... I apologize because I am terrible at writing children.

**This story portrays the same Chris that was in chapter 7 (A parakeet). This drabble happens about a month after that one, but it is not absolutely necessary to read chap. 7 beforehand. **

* * *

Noises from the attic drew the witch upwards, interrupting the manicure she had been giving herself. Phoebe blew on her fingers as she climbed the stairs, hoping dearly that whatever demon that was there to cause trouble would be polite enough to let her nails dry.

"Mommy!" A figure leaped from behind the boxes, sprang across the attic floor, and slammed into Phoebe's knees.

"Oof, hello there." The witch dropped out of fighting stance as her defensive instincts were overruled by other, more maternal impulses. Her attention locked on the child, on the tiny arms that briefly wrapped around her legs. "What are you doing up here, huh? And where did you come from anyways?"

The chubby face turned up to her, a pair of dark brown eyes twinkling. Hands raised in a demand to be picked up. "Hi Mommy."

Phoebe obliged, lifting the girl up and settling her on her hip. She winced, feeling the polish on her nails smear as it contacted the pink cloth of the girl's dress. Figures, she was destined to possess crummy looking nails. With a last suspicious look around the room she headed back down the stairs. "You know honey, I'm not your mommy."

"Yeah huh." The small head gave a stern nod, soft brown curls bouncing against the Charmed One's chin.

"No, I'm Phoebe."

The girl protested, leaning back so she could look up at Phoebe. "Mommy, I'm Prim." She said. As if that was all the explanation needed.

"Oh, you're Prim are you? What were you doing in the attic?" The witch carried her into the conservatory where her sister was reading. She answered Paige's curious look with a shrug.

"I wanna play wif dolls, but couldna find 'em." Primrose gesticulated with her hands as she explained. "Then I saw Chwiss and he didna see me."

Phoebe recalled the sullen teen that had swarmed through the attic a half a month ago with his defiance and his impish retorts. Somehow, she wasn't surprised that he was causing trouble again. "Chwiss… You mean Chris?"

Primrose nodded. "Chwiss." She said. "He opened da wall."

"Oh, you followed your cousin through a portal?"

"But he's not here." Paige pointed out as she set aside her book and stood up.

The child rolled her eyes at her 'aunt?' and said. "You hafta call hims." She sat up taller in Phoebe's arms and shrieked out. "Chwiss! Chwiss!"

The two witches winced at the screeching voice and their attention was drawn to the silvery wind that picked up within the conservatory, rocking the plants and casting loose a handful of leaves. A shower of blue orbs that spun into existence. "Not so loud. Tinkerbell, what are you doing here?"

Phoebe frowned. He sounded surprised and concerned. He hadn't meant for Primrose to join him in the past. "She followed you." She started to scold, then stopped and stared, finally taking in more than his facial expression.

"What's with the rodents?" Paige asked as she also eyed Chris.

Chris ignored the question as he reached over and flicked the curl that stuck out beside Primrose's ear. "Tinker, you're a little sneakerbell."

"No you!"

Paige interrupted again. "So, what's with the rodents?"

There were at least five of them. One had wrapped itself around Chris's neck, looking like a sable colored scarf except for the teeth that gnawed on the cord around his neck and the beady eyes that peered at the witches. The others were much more active. Two fought over the right to use Chris's shoulder as a perch, and the last pair squawked in protest as Chris grasped them by the midsection and held them towards Paige. "These little guys? They're ferrets."

"Exactly."

He rolled his eyes towards her. "They're not rodents."

She waved her hands and stepped back as one seemed intent on leaping towards her. "I know I know, they're some sort of mongoose."

"Actually, no. They're closer related to otters and weasels than to the mongoose." The witches' nephew lectured. The sight of their irritation pulled a grin across his face. "They're in the mustelidae family."

"What's funny?" Phoebe asked.

He continued to chuckle. "Nothing, just _that_. I know that off the top of my head but I'm still failing my Mammalogy course at the university."

"Aren't you a bit young to be in college?" She shifted Prim on her hip, placing herself between the little girl and the not-rodents. They were probably safe, considering that Chris was handling them, but she didn't like things with teeth being in such close proximity to her daughter-to-be.

"I tested out of highschool."

Paige's grin was teasing. "Bet that made your parents proud."

An uncomfortable silence held on for a moment as Chris tossed her an unreadable look. Then he turned to one of the ferrets as it tried to burrow into his hoodie. "Hey, watch the teeth."

The sound of the front door opening heralded the return of the eldest Charmed One. "Phoebe, Paige." Piper called out to her sisters as she tromped into the house. "Can you help bring the groceries in? Who's that?" She stopped in the doorway to the conservatory as she spotted the girl in Phoebe's arms. Then she looked further into the room. "Chris!" Her initial reaction to him was interrupted by a more pressing matter. "Why are there rodents in my house?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but he didn't offer his mother a lecture. Instead he said. "Well, you see. There's this tea kettle in a warehouse in South Dakota."

"Uh huh." She gave him a skeptical look.

"This kettle and I disagree about what is and is not possible. Hence the ferrets." He motioned to the creatures and gave his 'mother?' a sheepish smile.

She stared at him and waited for his explanation to make sense. It didn't. "Gibberish." She declared. "Get them out of here, and get the groceries."

He heaved a put upon sigh and the two ferrets in his hands disappeared in a shower of blue orbs. "Okay okay. No need to use the Mom-voice."

Piper turned to her sisters as soon as her son went to do as she asked. "What's he doing back here and who's this?"

"Not a clue, haven't asked him yet." Paige said.

"And her?"

Phoebe shifted so the girl could aim a wide grin at Piper. "Oh this, this is Prim. She's mine apparently."

"Yours?" Piper stared at the other witch. Then she turned as the door opened and Chris carried the groceries in. "You brought your cousin into the past?!"

"I did not bring her. She snuck after me." He yelled back from the hallway, and then caught her expression as she glared at him through the doorway. "Hey. It's not my job to watch her, It's P.J.'s job."

The eldest didn't relent, stalking after him into the kitchen with her two sisters at her heel. "You had a portal open when children were in the house!"

"It wasn't open, it was…slightly ajar."

She placed her hands on her hips and gave her most convincing glare. "You're grounded."

A laugh was startled from the young man as he set the many grocery bags on the counter. "You can't ground me. You haven't even given birth to me yet."

"Hah, you think that's how this works?"

"Chwiss." Primrose chirruped from her place in Phoebe's arms.

He turned away from his mother, grateful for the distraction. "Yessum Tinkerbell?"

"Cookie?" She held out a hand expectantly.

Chris smiled at the kid and waved a hand, silver-grey splashed across his palm as he pulled magic from the air. The cookie that appeared in his hand was offered to his cousin.

Phoebe protested, pulling her daughter away and eyeing the treat. "Hey hey hey, what is that?"

"Um." He waved the cookie. It was fairly obvious 'what' it was.

"You can't materialize food out of thin air."

He scoffed. "Chill, I orbed it from the jar." He nodded across the room, where the cookie jar sat innocently on the counter.

Primrose scooted in Phoebe's arms and insisted. "Cookie."

The charmed witch was not having any of it. "You can't just have cookies anytime. You'll ruin your dinner." She informed her daughter, and then rocked back as Prim retaliated with a teary pout. "Oh my God, I can't say no to that face." She snatched the cookie from Chris's arm and snapped at him as he laughed. "Hush you."

Orbs showered into the room. "Hey Piper, did you-" Leo started, and then spotted the strangers. "Um, hello."

"Leo, you remember us mentioning Chris a few weeks ago?" Piper asked, waving a hand to introduce 'father?' to son.

"Yes." Leo said as he studied the younger man. There was some resemblance, not just to the witches but to the whitelighter as well, however it was subtle. If Leo met him on the street, there was a good chance he would not recognize Chris as family. The shade of his brown hair was somewhere between Piper's dark locks and Leo's dirty blond. Nearly all of his facial features took after his mother, though he wasn't effeminate. The green eyes that glared back at Leo's quizzical gaze matched the pair that Leo had seen in the mirror countless times. "What has he done now?"

"Hey! Bite me old man." Chris snapped at him. A hint of satisfaction appeared in his eyes as he noted Leo's surprised *hurt* reaction.

"Watch your mouth around my niece." Piper admonished him and gestured to Primrose, who was still munching happily on her cookie.

"Sorry." He said, the underlying viciousness disappeared from his tone as quickly as it had appeared. His expression was soft as he turned his attention fully to his mother. Leo frowned, bothered by how easily his 'son' went from being angry to ignoring him completely.

"What are you doing in the past again anyways?" She asked.

"Doing my impression of a labrador." Chris said with a grin, and then gave the explanation that her expression demanded. "Wyatt asked me to retrieve a stick."

"A stick." She repeated. It was both amusing and annoying that he talked in riddles.

He gave a shrug, and then his attention was stolen from her as the cord around his neck started to glow and chime. "And that means it's time to head home." He said, pulling on the cord and revealing the silver pocket watch that had been hidden by the collar of his hoodie. He studied the clock for an instant and then reached for his cousin. "Tinkerbell, do you want to go through a shiny door with me?"

"Yea." She happily leaped from Phoebe's arms to Chris's.

"Why do you call her Tinkerbell?" Phoebe asked, loath to let her 'daughter' go.

The young man laughed, "Because. Hey, Prim, sparkle."

"Sparkle!" She repeated and flared, brightly. Pink lights danced and swirled around her. The young girl waved her arms, sending a handful of bright hearts and stars to her mother's hands.

"That's why." Chris said, smiling at the witches' expressions.

"Oh my gosh, is she part Pixie?" Paige asked.

"No, but I am so going to use that."

Leo spoke up then. "You really shouldn't be going back in time so much, it has been known to have side effects. Twice in less than a month, that's too often. It can get-."

Chris turned to him, hostility back in his eyes, and dramatically placed his free hand over his chest. "Oh Leo. It is adorable that you think I've only time-travelled twice in the last month." He jeered and pulled a vial from his pocket, tossing it to the older man. "Catch." He said, then clutched Primrose to his chest and orbed them out of the room as the potion exploded with a flash.

"Wats that?" Primrose asked as they appeared in the attic.

Chris waved the hand not supporting his cousin, fully opening the portal that he had left behind so that he didn't have to repeat the entire time-spell. "That was one of my new inventions. A memory bang. Kind of like a flash bang, it makes it so Mommy and Leo don't ground me when we get home."

"Grounded." She declared with a grin.

"No, you're grounded." He teased and stepped through time.

"No you!" His cousin said sternly as the attic shifted around them.

"Okay, look at me little Sneakerbell." He turned to her, teasing tone fading into something more serious. "You can't tell mommy or Aunt Piper about seeing them today. You have to promise."

"Pwomise?" She raised an eyebrow. Promising not to tell something meant that the something was a secret. A grin pulled across her chubby features, she liked knowing secrets.

"Yeah, you have to promise and then you can have…" Chris called on the wind. "Another cookie." He pulled it back as his cousin reached for it. "Promise first Primrose."

She met his eyes and spoke with every ounce of sincerity her tiny form could muster. "I prwomise."

"There you go." He handed the treat over and raised his voice. "P.J.!"

"Chris?" Came the call from downstairs.

He orbed them out of the attic. "You missing someone?"

P.J. reached for her youngest sister. "Prim! Where have you been, you little stinker? I've been looking everywhere for you."

A fond smile crossed Chris's features as he handed her over to her babysitter. "I'm going to go see Wyatt now. Tinkerbell, no beaming and remember, you promised.

* * *

It wasn't technically a lair, but that's what Chris always called it. 'Wyatt's Lair.' Where the eldest Halliwell son lived once he moved out of Piper's house. Appearance-wise, it was just like any other part of the underworld. The walls and roof were dark, black glossy areas mixed in with ragged maroon stone. On the floor was a thick layer of gritty, sandy gravel. Chris scuffed his shoes as he entered, ensuring that his approach was detected. Surprising Wyatt was not on his list of ways to die.

He stopped short as he heard a scream. The urge to run hit him so hard that his hands started shaking. It would take only a moment to say the spell. He could spend a lifetime or two in ancient Rome, or further back. How far back did he have to go to escape the knowledge of what his brother had become?

Chris took a deep breath. Wincing because no matter how much the lair looked like the underworld, it still smelled like home. Wyatt had used some sort of spell for that, because he didn't like the stuffy underground smell. A whiff hinted of Piper's cooking and then it was gone, replaced by the fruity tang of Paige's candles. He forced himself forward.

It was a typical interrogation, except that there were no questions being asked. The demon was trapped by pure, clear quartz crystals. The light of the cage blazed, back and forth, extracting further cries. The smell of burning flesh didn't quite reach Chris's nostrils, though just imagining it made him gag.

"That's not messed up at all." The time-traveller tried to sound nonchalant, as if the sight didn't cause bile to creep up his throat. His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Wyatt glanced up and moved a crystal out of position. The demon stopped screaming and in the ensuing silence the Twice Blessed demanded. "Did you get it?"

Chris dug it out of his pocket. "One itty-bitty twig, as per your demand." He tossed it over.

"Took you long enough." Wyatt growled as he caught the twig and orbed it to one of his many caches.

"Actually, it didn't take me long at all. I just took a detour on the way back." Chris admitted and then, before Wyatt could get angry at him for not obeying promptly, he mentioned. "You know the clan Zamora will hunt you down for having that thing?"

"There's only one surviving member of that clan, and he is too human to warrant worry." Wyatt said, he tossed a vial at the captive demon. Vanquishing him was probably a mercy by that point. Then he turned a menacing look on his brother. "Oh, by the way, if you tell anybody about this."

Chris supposed that he should take the threat seriously, but he couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped. Maybe he was becoming as screwy as he pretended to be. "You're kidding right? Me, the certifiably insane misfit of the family, you think I could tell anyone? Leo would insist that the Elders block my magic if I dared to suggest that his precious Twice Blessed is planning to take control of the underworld."

The older brother's expression got even harder. "That's not true."

"Wyatt. I spend nearly as much time down here as you do. Your minions are good at evading the Elders' spies, they're not so good at avoiding me." He said and jeered at the Twice Blessed. "There's no point in lying about what you're up to, not to me anyway."

"That's not what I meant. Dad would believe you." Wyatt expression was doing weird things, they made Chris even more uncomfortable than the threats had. "He'd be skeptical at first, but if you provided proof... Not even he is that bull-headed."

"You make it sound like you want me to tattle."

"I don't. I just… You've been pulling away from the family for a long time Chris. Your trips through time are changing you." Wyatt actually sounded upset on his behalf.

Chris didn't know what to say to that, so he fell back on what was familiar. His tone was mocking. "As the next Big Bad you really should practice not showing this side of you. All the exaggerated concern makes you look weak."

"I **am** worried about you."

Chris's grin was just a baring of teeth. "I'll bet you are."

"Chris…"

"I'm sure your worry doesn't have anything to do with how convenient it would be to have me around doing your dirty work." The younger brother accused. It was easier for him to imagine that there was no good side to Wyatt, that every kindness had an ulterior motive behind it. "I would take all the blame and you would be seen as daddy's favorite little angel for a while longer."

"That's not why." Wyatt protested. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he realized that he wasn't going to convince Chris that he cared. "I'm not the only one who is concerned about this. There have been family meetings and everything."

"Save it Wy, I have other places to be, other times to visit." Chris spun and stalked out of the lair, calling back over his shoulder. "Have fun taking over the world."

**End Note:** Chris was more careful with his portals from that point on. After all, how could he get away from his family if they were able to follow him into the past? Meanwhile, Leo was beginning to realize that he had completely lost his chance with one son, and the other was far too good at lying to him.

* * *

**Next Time:**

* * *

A.N.: I don't have a specific story in mind yet, just vague ideas. I'm probably going to write chapter one of "World gone to the Wolves" before any of these come out, unless there is a great deal of interest in one of these ideas.

* * *

**Follow ups:** I have sort of follow-ups planned for a few of the drabbles I have already posted. Let me know if you want to see a short continuation of one of the other chapters.

* * *

**Hackery VS Witchery:** Christopher Halliwell and Claudia Donovan; They're not lovers, not friends, the best description is 'sometimes friendly rivals'. They first met in an asylum. There they plotted, schemed, and planned. Then they drugged a guard and went their separate ways into the night. The next time they met was after Chris broke in and stole a few artifacts from the Warehouse.

* * *

**Fixing what isn't broken:** Everyone knows that the Halliwell women are supposed to give birth to girls. After Wyatt, Piper does a spell to ensure that her future children will be the _**correct**_ gender. Years later, Penelope Christina Halliwell "Chris" is plagued by an identity crisis. She likes sports, foul tasting beer, and girls (though she knows she is not a lesbian). She loathes every part of her body: the delicate features of her face, the silky smooth hair, the curvy hips, and the bouncy breasts. The only time she feels right is when she orbs away from anyone who knows her and uses a glamour spell to appear male.

* * *

**Don't tell Piper that she's a Grandmother:** Chris had a bit of an obsession with dragons. He never told his family about it, since he could imagine their reaction: "You know your brother conjured one when he was a baby?" He never mentioned how he scoured the library at the magic school and searched through any texts stolen from demons for information on the winged beasts. Now, as four hungry hatchlings stare expectantly up at him, it's a bit late to reveal that he managed to find the remains of the last dragon's nest and awakened the dormant eggs.


End file.
